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Book .OtSS 



D'Orsay 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 



A Soul's Awakening [Crown 8vo, 6s. 

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Creatures of Clay 

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JOHN LONG, LIMITED, LONDON 







&mj$. 



D'ORSAY 



OR 



The Complete Dandy 



By 



W. Teignmouth Shore 



WITH PHOTOGRAVURE AND SIXTEEN OTHER PORTRAITS 



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NEW YORK: BRENTANO'S 

LONDON : JOHN LONG, LTD. 

MCMXI 






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First Published in 1911 

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Contents 



I. Jocund Youth - - - - 15 

II. She ----- 24 

III. Mars and Venus - - - 35 

IV. The Primrose Path - - 4 2 

V. Byron - - - - - 48 

VI. Pilgrims of Love - - - . 53 

VII. Marriage - 65 

VIII. Rome - 76 

IX. Paris - - 81 

X. A Solemn Undertaking - - - 92 

XL Seamore Place ... - 100 

XII. Handsome is - - - 116 

XIII. A London Salon - - - 135 

XIV. Round the Town - 145 
XV. Gore House - - - 157 

XVI. Stars • - - - - 172 

XVII. Company - - - - 174 

XVIII. More Friends - - - - 189 

XIX. Nap - - 195 

XX. W. S. L. - - - - 216 

XXI. The Artist - - - - - 225 

XXII. Letters - 235 



vi Contents 



PAGE 



XXIII. Exchequer Bonds - 245 

XXIV. Sundry Festivities - - - 255 

XXV. Sunset - - - - - 270 

XXVI. The End of Gore House - - - 280 

XXVII. Paris for the Last Time - - 284 

XXVIII. D'Orsay in Decline - 289 

XXIX. Death - - - - 302 

XXX. What Was He? - - - - 311 



List of Illustrations 



Count d'Orsay 

After a Painting by Sir Francis Grant, 

Lady Blessington 

From a Water-colour Drawing by A. E, 


P.R.A. 
Chai.on, 


Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 
28 

R.A. 


St James's Square in 1812 - 


- 


- 


- 


36 


Lord Byron - 
By D'Orsay. 


- 


- 


- 


50 , 


D'Orsay, 1830 


- 


- 


- 


96 


10 St James's Square 


- 


- 


- 


100 


Seamore Place 


- 


- 


- 


114 


Crockford's - 


- 


- 


- 


150 


Gore House - 

From a Water-colour Drawing by T. 


11 


. Shepherd. 


160 


The Countess Guiccioli 
By D'Orsay. 


- 


- 


- 


164 


Edward, First Baron Lytton 

From a Painting by A. E. CHAI.ON, 


K. 


A. 


- 


176 


Carlyle in 1839 
By D'Orsay. 


- 


- 


- 


188 


Napoleon III. 
By D'Orsay. 


- 


- 




206 


Lady Blessington 

From the Bust by D'Orsay. 


- 


- 


- 


2 34 


Hyde Park Corner in 1824 


- 


- 


- 


250 


Garden View of Gore House 


- 


- 


- 


280 


Mausoleum of Lady Blessington 

From a Photograph by D'Orsay. 


- 


- 


- 


288 



Dandiacal 

What a delightful fellow is your complete 
dandy. No mere clothes' prop he, the coat 
does not make the dandy ; no mere flaneur in 
fine garments ; far more than that is our true 
dandy. 

Though there is not any authority for 
making the statement, we do not think that 
we are wrong in asserting that on the day 
when Adam first complained to Eve that she 
had not cut his fig-leaf breeches according to 
the latest fashion dandyism was born. It is 
not dead yet, only moribund, palsied, shaking 
and decrepit with old age, blown upon by an 
over-practical world of money-spinners and 
money-spenders. Joy seems to have become 
a thing of which it is necessary to go in pursuit ; 
in the golden days of the dandies it was a 
good comrade which came almost without hail- 
ing to those who desired its company. A real 
dandy would wither and wilt in a world where 
joy is so much of a stranger as it is now to 
most folk. 

It is curious that there does not exist any 
history of the Rise, Decline and Fall of Dandy- 
ism, a subject fit for the pen of Gibbon. But 
the reason is, that to write it with anything 



xii D'Orsay 

comedy of dandyism, and in Mercutio a portrait 
of the complete Elizabethan dandy. But the 
comedy of dandyism was at its zenith in the 
days of Charles II. Congreve and Wycherley 
were its high priests, who preached through the 
mouths of their brilliant puppets the gospel of 
joy which the Court so ably practised. We 
have in The School for Scandal another bright 
flash of dandyism, though Charles Surface has 
too much heart for a true and perfect dandy. 

In fiction we have many striking examples 
of dandiacal literature, notably Vivian Grey and 
Pelha7n y both written by dandies. 

Dandies vary in kind as well as in degree, 
there being some who play at dandyism in 
the days of their youth, such for example as 
Disraeli ; others who are pinchbeck dandies, 
falling into the slough of overdressing, such 
for example as Charles Dickens, who was a 
mere colourist in garments. There are the born 
dandies, Brummel, D'Orsay, George Bernard 
Shaw for examples, the last of whom was born 
at least 200 years behind his time ; he would 
have been delightful at the Court of Charles 
the Merry. It is not necessary to be in the 
fashion to achieve the dignity of dandyism ; 
G. B. S. sets the fashion himself and is the 
only one who can follow it. 

The psychology of the dandy has been much 
misunderstood, probably because it has been so 
little studied. What dandies have done has 
been told to us in many a biography, but what 



Dandiacal xiii 

they have been — upon that point silence reigns 
almost supreme. Yet the mind of the complete 
dandy is well worth plumbing. Those who 
know him not will perchance advance the 
theory that a man possessed of a mind cannot be 
a dandy ; as a matter of fact the reverse is the 
truth ; he must possess mind, but not a heart. 

Even so profound a philosopher and student 
of human nature — the two are seldom found in 
conjunction, which accounts for the inefficacy 
of most philosophy — as Professor Teufelsdrockh 
of Weissnichtwo has defined a dandy as "a 
Clothes-wearing Man, a Man whose trade, office 
and existence consists in the wearing of Clothes. 
Every faculty of his soul, spirit, purse and 
person is heroically consecrated to this one 
object, the wearing of clothes wisely and well : 
so that others dress to live, he lives to dress." 

Which proves that though undoubtedly 
German philosophers know most things in 
Heaven and on Earth they do not know all, 
though they themselves would never make this 
admission. Teufelsdrockh's definition of a dandy 
is preposterously incomplete, showing that he 
did not possess insight into the heart and soul 
of dandyism. He perceived the clothes, but 
not the man. 

The proper wearing of proper clothes is but 
part of the whole duty of a dandy-man. A 
complete dandy is dandified in all his modes of 
life ; his sense of honour and his conceptions 
of morality are dandified ; he is an epicure in 



xiv D'Orsay 

all the arts of fine living, in all forms of fashion- 
able and expensive amusement, in all luxurious 
accomplishments. He must be endowed with 
wit, or at least gifted with a tongue of sprightli- 
ness sufficient to pass muster as witty. He must 
be perfect in the amiable art of polite con- 
versation and expert in the language of love. 
He must own " the courtier's, soldier's, scholar's 
eye, tongue, sword " ; he must be " the glass of 
fashion and the mould of form, the observed of 
all observers." 

How far did D'Orsay fulfil these require- 
ments ? It is the aim of the following pages to 
answer that question. 



D'Orsay 



JOCUND YOUTH 

It is the habit of historians to pay little heed to 
the childhood and the training of the kings, con- 
querors, statesmen and the other big folk whose 
achievements they record and whose characters 
they seldom fathom or portray. But perhaps they 
are right just as perhaps sometimes they are 
accurate. It is easier to judge correctly and 
with understanding the boy and what really were 
the influences that affected his development, 
when we know the performances of his maturity, 
than it is to trace in the child the father of the 
man. By what the man was we may know what 
the boy had been. Which brings us to this point, 
that we need not very deeply regret that the 
records of D'Orsay 's early years are but scanty. 
Such as they are they suffice to give us all that 
we require — a fugitive glimpse here and there 
of a childhood as great in promise as the man- 
hood was in performance. 

Gedeon Gaspard Alfred de Grimaud, Count 
d'Orsay and du Saint- Empire, Prince of Dandies, 
was born upon the 4th of September, in the year 
1 80 1. Whether or not he came into the world 
under the influence of a lucky star we can find 
no record ; upon that point each of us may draw 

15 



16 D'Orsay 

his own conclusion in accordance with his judg- 
ment of D'Orsay's career and character. 

He sprang from a noble and distinguished 
family, his father Albert, Count d'Orsay, being 
a soldier of the Empire and accepted as one of 
the handsomest men of his day, Napoleon saying 
of him that he was " aussi brave que beau." It 
has been written of the son, " II est le fils dun 
general de nos armies heYoiques, aussi celebre 
par sa beaut£ que par ses faits d'armes." Alfred 
inherited his father's good looks and his accom- 
plishment with the sword. 

Writing in 1828, Lady Blessington says: 
" General d'Orsay, known from his youth as Le 
Beau d'Orsay, still justifies the appellation, for he 
is the handsomest man of his age that I have 
ever beheld . . . ; " and Lady Blessington was an 
experienced judge of manly beauty. 

His mother, a beautiful woman, was El^anore, 
Baroness de Franquemont, a daughter of the 
King of Wiirtemberg by his marriage with 
Madame Crawford, also needless to say a beau- 
tiful woman ; also apparently dowered hand- 
somely with wit and worldly wisdom. Her 
marriage with the King who, it has been neatly 
said, "baptised with French names his dogs, 
his castles and his bastards," was of course a 
left-handed affair, and on his right-handedly marry- 
ing within his own rank, she retired in dudgeon 
to France. Later she married an Irishman of 
large means, a Mr O'Sullivan, with whom she 
resided for some time in India, surviving him 
and dying at the advanced age of eighty- four, 



Jocund Youth 17 

full of youthfulness and ardour. The grandson 
inherited her accomplishment in love. 

So alluring, indeed, were her charms, that 
on her return from the East one of her many- 
admirers presented her with a bottle of otto of 
Roses, outdone in sweetness by the following 
Mooreish compliment : — 

" Quand la ' belle Sullivan ' quitta l'Asie, 
La Rose, amoureuse de ses charmes, 
Pleura le depart de sa belle amie, 
Et ce flacon contient ses larmes." 

The fragrance of the otto has long departed 
but that of the compliment remains. A pretty 
compliment deserves to attain immortality. 

When in Paris in 1828 Lady Blessington 
was upon terms of intimacy with the D'Orsays, 
and was greatly impressed by la belle Sullivan,. 
or, as she preferred to be called, Madame Craw- 
ford. She visited her in a charming hotel, 
" entre Cour et Jardin" ; and decided that she 
was the most "exquisite person of her age" 
that she had ever seen. She was then in her 
eight ; eth year, but we are told that she did 
not look more than fifty-five, and was full of 
good-humour and vivacity. " Scrupulously exact 
in her person, and dressed with the utmost care 
as well as good taste, she gives me a notion of 
the appearance which the celebrated Ninon de 
l'Enclos must have presented at the same age, 
and has much of the charm of manner said to 
have belonged to that remarkable woman." 

There is considerable mystery about this good 
lady's career. 



18 D'Orsay 

It was a foregone conclusion that a woman 
of this style would dote upon and do her best 
endeavour to spoil a bright, handsome boy such 
as was her grandson Alfred. Being an only son, 
an elder brother having died in infancy, the child 
was made much of on all sides. His good looks, 
his smartness, even his early developed taste for 
extravagant luxuries, charmed his accomplished 
grandmother, whom when later on he entered the 
army we find presenting him with a magnificent 
service of plate, which brought upon him more 
ridicule than envy from his brother officers. 

In 1815 Paris was in a ferment of excitements 
and entertainments, all the great men and many 
of the great ladies of Europe were there gathered 
together — where the spoil is there shall the 
vultures be gathered together. Young D'Orsay, 
mere lad though he was, came very much to 
the front ; even thus early his immaculate dress 
was noticeable ; his spirited English hunter and 
his superb horsemanship attracted attention. 
Though he probably did not particularly relish 
the occurrence, he was presented to the Duke 
of Wellington. A great meeting this, the con- 
queror of the men of France and the future 
conqueror of the women of England. 

Lord William Pitt Lennox, himself only six- 
teen, relates that he met D'Orsay in Paris in 
1 8 14, and he goes on to state that "in the hours 
of recreation, he showed me all the sights of the 
1 City of Frivolity,' as Paris has been not in- 
aptly named." Pretty good for two such mere lads ! 

"One of our first visits was to the Cafe des 



Jocund Youth 19 

Milles Colonnes, which was, at the period I 
write of, the most attractive cafe* in Paris. Large 
as it was, it was scarcely capable of containing 
the vast crowds who besieged it every evening, 
to admire its saloons decorated with unprece- 
dented magnificence. . . . 

" Wellington had a private box at the Theatre 
Francais, which D'Orsay and myself constantly 
occupied to witness the splendid acting of Talma, 
Madame Georges, Mademoiselle Duchesnois in 
tragedy, and of that daughter of Nature, Made- 
moiselle Mars, in comedy. . . . 

" Upon witnessing Perlet in Le ComSdien 
dEtampes, D'Orsay said — 

" ' Is not Perlet superlative ? ' " 

In another of his numerous voluminous and 
often highly entertaining memoirs, Lord William 
writes of this same visit to Paris : — 

" One youth attracted great attention that 
day" — it was a royal hunt in the Bois de 
Boulogne — "from his handsome appearance, his 
gentlemanlike bearing, his faultless dress and 
the splendid English hunter he was mounted 
upon. This was Count Alfred d'Orsay, after- 
wards so well known in London society. De 
Grammont,* who some few years after married 
his sister, had sent him from England a first- 
rate Leicestershire hunter, whose fine shape, 
simple saddle and bridle contrasted favourably 
with the heavy animals and smart caparisons 
then in fashion with the Parisian Nimrods. 

"The Count was presented to Wellington 

* De Guiche. See p. 35. 



20 D'Orsay 

and his staff, and from that moment he became 
a constant guest at the Hotel Borghese. ..." 

Of another hunt, or rather of the return from 
it, we read : — 

"Nothing occurred during the day's sport to 
merit any particular comment ; perhaps the most 
amusing part of it was our ' lark ' home across 
the country, when myself, Fremantle, and other 
attaches of the English Embassy, led some half 
dozen Frenchmen a rather stiffish line of stone 
walls and brooks. Among the latter was 
D'Orsay, who, albeit unaccustomed to go ' across 
country,' was always in the 'first flight,' mak- 
ing up by hard riding whatever he may have 
lacked in judgment ; he afterwards lived to be an 
excellent sportsman and a good rider to hounds." 

As became the son of his father, though 
scarcely fitting in the grandson of a king, D'Orsay 
was ever a staunch Bonapartist, feeling the full 
strength of the glamour of Napoleon. But the 
Emperor and the Empire vanished in cannon 
smoke ; the Bourbons occupied rather uncomfort- 
ably the throne of France, and D'Orsay, much 
against the grain, entered the King's garde-du- 
corps. But so ardent was his devotion to Bona- 
partism, that when the new monarch made his 
state entry into his capital, the lad refused to be a 
witness of his triumph, would not add his voice 
to the general acclamation, and indulged in the 
luxury of tears in a back room. 

His inherited instincts and his education gave 
him a taste for all the fine arts of life, and Nature 
endowed him with exceptionally good looks. An 



Jocund Youth 21 

upstanding man he became, over six feet in 
stature ; broad - shouldered and slim - waisted ; 
hands and feet of unusual beauty ; long, curly, 
dark chestnut hair ; forehead high and wide ; lips 
rather full ; eyes large, and light hazel in colour. 
Though there was something almost femininely 
soft about his beauty he was nowise effeminate ; 
in fact, he was a superb athlete, and highly skilled 
in almost every form of manly exercise and sport. 
We are told that he was a wit ; a capital com- 
panion at all hours of the day and night ; a quite 
capable amateur artist, who, as is the way of 
amateurs, received assistance from his professional 
friends, and — which is unusual at any rate among 
amateurs in art if not in sport — took pay for his 
work. In short, he was a very highly-gifted and 
accomplished young man. 

D'Orsay was born in an age when the atmos- 
phere was electric with adventure ; when nobodies 
rapidly became somebodies, and many who had 
been brought up to consider themselves very 
considerable somebodies were shocked at being 
told that in truth they were nobodies, or at 
best but the thin shadows of great names. It 
was an age when even the discomforts of a 
throne were not an unreasonable aspiration for 
the most humbly born. With his beauty of 
face and figure, fascinating manners and high 
family influence, young D'Orsay must have looked 
upon the world as a fine fat oyster which he could 
easily open and from which he could pluck the 
pearl of success. He possessed a winning tongue 
that would have made him a great diplomat ; the 



22 D'Orsay 

daring and skill at arms that would have stood 
him in good stead as a soldier of fortune ; a power 
of raising money in most desperate straits that 
would have rendered him an unrivalled minister 
of finance. From all these roads to distinction he 
turned aside ; he was born to a greater fate ; his was 
the genius of a complete dandy. Few great men 
have been able so justly to appraise their abilities ; 
still fewer to attain so surely their ambition. 

During his short service in the army he proved 
himself a good officer and made himself popular 
with his men by looking to their comfort and wel- 
fare. Naturally he assumed the lead in all the 
gaieties of the garrison town, the assemblies, the 
dances, the dinners, the promenadings, but how 
petty they must have been to him, and how often 
he must have wistfully repined for Paris. He 
could not play his great part on so circumscribed 
a stage and with so poor a company of players. 
But if he could not find sufficient social sport, he 
could fight, and did. On one occasion the cause 
of the duel was noteworthy. It happened only a 
few days after he had joined his regiment that at 
mess one of his brother officers made use of an 
offensive expression in connection with the name 
of the Blessed Virgin. D'Orsay, as became a 
devout Catholic gentleman, expostulated. The 
offence was offensively repeated, upon which 
D'Orsay, evidently feeling that a verbal retort 
would not suffice to meet the gravity of the 
occasion, threw a plateful of spinach in the face 
of the transgressor. Thereupon a challenge and 
a duel fought that evening upon the town ramparts. 



Jocund Youth 23 

With what result ? Alas, as so often upon im- 
portant affairs, history holds her tongue. The 
historic muse is an arrant jade, who chatters un- 
ceasingly upon matters of no moment, and is 
silent upon points concerning which we thirst for 
information. That is one of the ways of women. 

On the occasion of a later duel, D'Orsay re- 
marked to his second before the encounter : — 

"You know, my dear friend, I am not on a 
par with my antagonist ; he is a very ugly 
fellow, and if I wound him in the face he won't 
look much the worse for it ; but on my side it 
ought to be agreed that he should not aim 
higher than my chest, for if my face should be 
spoiled ce serait vraiment dommage" 

A dandy with a damaged nose or deprived 
of one eye would be a figure of fun. 

From remote ancestors D'Orsay inherited 
the spirit of chivalry, setting woman upon a 
lofty pedestal and then asking her to step down 
and make love to him. He was always ready 
to rescue a woman — not merely a beauty — in 
distress, of which a fine example is an event 
which befell while he was living out of barracks 
in apartments, which were kept by a widow, 
who had one son and two daughters. The son 
was a muscular young man of robust temper, 
and attracted — or rather distracted — one day by 
the sounds of tumult rising from below, D'Orsay 
hastened downstairs to find this youth employed in 
bullying his mother. The blood of D'Orsay was 
inflamed ; the dandy thrashed the lout, promising 
still heavier punishment should occasion arise. 



II 

SHE 

Even the ardent D'Orsay, while he was thus pre- 
paring himself for his life-work and laying the 
foundation upon which he was to raise so superb 
a fame, could not in the hours of his highest in- 
spiration have dreamed that Fate was deciding 
his future in the person of a lovely Irish peeress, 
the cynosure of London society. Such, in fact, 
was the case. In the year 1821 he visited 
England and met with the woman who held his 
fortunes in her beautiful arms. 

Margaret, or as she preferred to be called, 
and when a lady expresses a preference that 
should suffice, Marguerite Power was born at 
Knockbrit, near Clonmel, on the 1st of September 
1789, being the third of the six children of 
Edmund Power, a Tipperary squireen of ex- 
travagant propensities and of a violent temper 
and overbearing tyranny which rendered him a 
curse to his family. He was a good-looking, 
swaggering fellow, with a showy air, fond of 
fine clothes, fine wine, fine horses, and various 
other fine things, indulgence in which his income 
did not justify. His were a handsome set of 
children : the two sons, Michael and Robert, 
attained the army rank of captain ; Marguerite — 
and two sisters, Ellen and Mary Anne ; the 
eldest child died young. Of a quieter disposition 
than her brothers and sisters, Marguerite as a child 

24 



She 25 

was rather weak and ailing, sensitive and reflective. 
At that time of her life her beauty was not obvi- 
ous ; indeed few then seem to have realised that 
there was any charm in the soft, round, clear-com- 
plexioned face, with its pretty dimples and large, 
grey eyes shielded by long, drooping lashes. Her 
voice was low, soft, caressing ; her movements 
unstudiedly graceful. A dreamy child, who lived in 
fancy-land ; strange to her comrades, who awarded 
her little else than ridicule and misunderstanding. 

In 1796 the Powers moved into Clonmel, which 
change was welcomed by all the family save 
Marguerite, who looked forward to it with a 
foreboding that was only too fully fulfilled. In 
some ways this move wrought good for the child, 
awakening her to the realities of life, arousing an 
interest in the ways and doings of the society into 
which she was thrown ; her health improved, and 
with it her spirits, both mental and physical. 

Her father's pecuniary affairs now went 
rapidly from worse to much worse, and his 
adventures in politics rendered him highly un- 
popular with those of his own rank and station. H e 
was a hospitable soul in his reckless, feckless way 
while he had a penny to spend, and often when 
he had not, filling his house with guests, many of 
whom were military men, and emptying his purse. 

When only fifteen years old Marguerite began 
to go out into society, as did her sister Ellen, her 
junior by more than a year. The rackety society 
of a small, Irish garrison town can scarcely have 
been wholesome for a young, impressionable girl, 
and to its influence may be attributed the develop- 



26 D'Orsay 

ment in Lady Blessington's character of many evil 
traits which healthful surroundings and judicious 
restraint might have held in check. The two 
graceful, pretty children quickly became popular. 

Among the familiar guests at the father's 
house in 1804 were two officers of the 47th 
Regiment of Foot, then stationed in Clonmel, 
Captain Murray and Captain Maurice St Leger 
Farmer, the latter a man of considerable means, 
which was quite sufficient in Power's eyes to 
make him an excellent match for Marguerite, to 
whom both the officers were paying attention. 
Though Farmer was young, good - looking, 
plausible, the child's fancy turned toward his 
rival, who wooed and would have won her had 
a fair field been granted him. He warned 
Marguerite that Farmer had proposed for her 
hand to her father, the news coming to her 
entirely unexpected, most unwelcome, difficult to 
credit. But in a few days the information was 
proved conclusively to be true, her father in- 
forming her that Farmer had approached him in 
the matter, and that he had given his cordial 
consent to his addresses. Marguerite was 
dismayed, at first stunned. She fully under- 
stood the strong inducements which the prospect 
of her marriage with Farmer had for a man in 
her father's embarrassed circumstances, and knew 
only too well from bitter experience how intoler- 
ant he was of opposition to any of his whims or 
wishes, and how little weight the desires of any of 
his children bore with him. From her mother she 
expected some sympathy, but to her dismay re- 



She 27 

ceived scant consideration for her plea to be spared, 
her unwillingness being counted the romantic 
notion of a child too young to be able to form 
a right judgment of the advantages offered by 
this proposed marriage. Tears and entreaties 
availed not, and the child was married to a man 
whom she held in detestation and in fear. 

That the outcome of this inhuman mating was 
misery is not wonderful ; there was not in it any 
possibility of happiness. The one a very turbulent 
man who, though not actually insane, was subject to 
paroxysms of rage that were terrifying ; the other 
a child not yet sixteen years of age, with a nature 
very sensitive, impressionable, and with that in- 
tense longing for love, sympathy and understanding 
so common among - Irish women and men. We 
know what Marguerite Power did become ; it is idle 
to conjecture what she might have been had not 
this abominable marriage been thrust upon her. 

From her own account, which seems trust- 
worthy, we learn that her husband treated his child- 
wife outrageously, not even refraining from physical 
violence. Her arms were meanly pinched till black 
and blue ; her face struck. When he went abroad, not 
infrequently he would lock her into her room, some- 
times leaving her for hours without nourishment. 

Three months after their marriage Farmer was 
ordered to rejoin his regiment at Kildare, and his 
wife took the bold, determined step of refusing to 
go with him. A separation being arranged, Mar- 
guerite returned to her father's house, where she 
received a welcome the reverse of kind. Home 
was made utterly distasteful to her, and sympathy — 



28 D'Orsay 

the one thing that might have saved her— was with- 
held by her father and mother. It was given to her 
from an alien quarter, and she accepted the "pro- 
tection " offered to her by Captain Thomas Jenkins 
of the nth Light Dragoons, a Hampshire man of 
considerable property. The astonishing thing is that 
she acted on the advice given to her by Major, after- 
wards Sir Edward Blakeney, her supposed friend 
and well-wisher. Meanwhile Farmer had gone 
out to India in the East India Company's service. 

When Lord Mountjoy, better known as Lord 
Blessington, first met with the fascinating Mar- 
guerite is not quite clear, but in all probability 
he did so in or about 1804, when serving as 
Lieutenant- Colonel of the Tyrone Militia when 
stationed at Clonmel. 

Blessington plays a considerable and mysteri- 
ous part in the life of D'Orsay. His father, the 
Right Hon. Luke Gardiner, was born in the year 
1745, and did his duty by his country and pos- 
sibly by his conscience in various ways. He 
married the daughter of a Scotch baronet, who 
presented him with several daughters and two 
sons, one of these latter dying in infancy, the 
other, Charles John, entering the world on July 19, 
1782. He was educated at Eton and at Christ 
Church, Oxford, and succeeded his father in the 
titles of Viscount and Baron Mountjoy in 1798. 
In 1809 he was elected, upon what qualifications it 
is difficult to imagine, a representative peer of 
Ireland, and in 18 16 was created Earl of Bles- 
sington. In this same year we hear of his visiting 
Marguerite in Manchester Square, London. 




* 



■-.. 




Lady Bi.essington 

{From a Water-Colour Drawing by A. E. Ckalott, R.A.) 

[to fack page 28 



Shi 



29 



As far as wealth was concerned Blessington cer- 
tainly was granted a fine start in life, but it may 
well be doubted if he were well endowed or endowed 
at all with brains of any value, though we are in- 
formed by a lukewarm but still possibly too warm 
biographer that he was "possessed of some talents." 
Let us hope so ; but if so, he contrived with great 
skill to bury them. We do hear of him speaking 
in the House of Lords in support of a motion for 
a vote of thanks to Lord Wellington, and as a 
specimen of his eloquence we quote : — 

" No general was better skilled in war, none 
more enlightened than Lord Viscount Wellington. 
The choice of a position at Talavera reflected lustre 
on his talents ; the victory was as brilliant and as 
glorious as any on record. It was entitled to the 
unanimous approbation of their lordships, and the 
eternal gratitude of Spain and of this country." 

It is also recorded that his lordship spoke but 
seldom, which may be counted to him for a saving 
grace. 

He seems to have been more at home in the 
green-room than in the neighbourhood of the 
woolsack. He was very wealthy, very prodigal, 
vastly futile. Byron relates of him : — " Mount- 
joy . . . seems very good-natured, but is much 
tamed since I recollect him in all the glory 
of gems and snuff-boxes, and uniforms and 
theatricals, sitting to Strolling, the painter, to be 
depicted as one of the heroes of Agincourt." 

In another portrait he appears as Achilles, 
dragging at his chariot-tail the body of Hector, a 
friend " sitting " for the corpse. Physically he was 



30 D'Orsay 

vigorous ; a tall, bright-looking man ; a capital 
companion, when only good spirits and a strong 
head unadorned with brain-sauce were called for. 

In 1808, or 1809, Blessington — then mere 
Mountjoy — fell in with a very charming and 
well-favoured lady named Brown, but there were 
"some difficulties in the way of the resolution 
he had formed of marrying the lady, but the 
obstacles were removed." The obstacle was the 
mere trifle of her already being possessed of if not 
blessed with a husband, Major Brown, who, how- 
ever, discreetly and considerately departed this life 
in 181 2, thus enabling Blessington to legalise the 
lady's position in his establishment, the outcome of 
his connection with her having already been that 
she had borne him two children, Charles John and 
Emilie Rosalie. This lady subsequently presented 
him with two further pledges of her fond affection, 
Lady Harriet Anne Frances Gardiner, born in 
181 2, and Luke Wellington, afterwards by court- 
esy Viscount Mountjoy, born in 1814. On the 
9th of September of this same year she died. 

Blessington was gifted with a penchant for 
losing his heart to ladies possessed of " obstacles " 
in the way of his complete happiness, for, as 
has been noted, he was in 18 16 vice Jenkins 
befriending Marguerite Farmer. Again fortune 
smiled on his desires, Farmer dying of injuries 
received during a drunken frolic in October 18 17. 
On 1 6th February of the following year his 
widow became Lady Blessington, she then being 
in her twenty-ninth, he in his thirty-seventh, year. 

Her beauty had ripened into something near 



Shi 



31 



akin to perfection, a bright and radiant spirit 
shining through the physical tenement. Hers 
was a vivid, compelling loveliness, supported by 
a vivacious good humour. Her figure, though 
somewhat tending toward over-fullness, was 
moulded on exquisite lines and of almost perfect 
proportions ; her movements still graceful and 
free, as they had been when she was a child ; 
her face — now pensively lovely, now suddenly 
illuminated with a joyous fancy that first ex- 
pressed itself in her sparkling eyes ; pouting lips ; 
a clear, sweet-toned voice ; the merriest of merry 
laughs. In sober truth, a very fascinating woman. 

This wild Irish girl, for certainly she had been a 
leetle wild, had climbed high up the social ladder. 
Without any other fortune than her face and her 
winsome ways she had won a peer for her lord, 
who if not highly endowed with ability possessed 
fortune in abundance, which for the purposes of 
her contentment was even more to be desired. 

The fond pair paid a visit to my lord's estate 
in County Tyrone, and also to Dublin, where the 
appearance of my lady created no small stir. 
From the first day of their marriage Blessington 
exhibited a sumptuous extravagance in provid- 
ing luxuries for Lady Blessington, who herself 
records : — " The only complaint I ever have to 
make of his taste, is its too great splendour ; a 
proof of which he gave me when I went to 
Mountjoy Forest on my marriage, and found my 
private sitting - room hung with crimson Genoa 
silk velvet, trimmed with gold bullion fringe, and 
all the furniture of equal richness — a richness that 



32 DOrsay 

was only suited to a state-room in a palace," or to 
any other room seldom used or seen. 

The wilds of Ireland, however, were not a 
fitting stage for one so ambitious to charm as 
was Lady Blessington, so after a short sojourn 
in Tyrone she and her husband returned to 
London, where they took up their residence at 
10 St James' Square, a house that had been 
dignified by the occupancy of Chatham and was 
to be by that of Gladstone. 

Lady Blessington was as blest as was to be 
the Duke of Leeds' bride, of whom the rhyme 
ran : — 

" She shall have all that's fine and fair, 
And the best of silk and satin shall wear ; 
And ride in a coach to take the air, 
And have a house in St James' Square." 

The mansion was fitted and furnished in a 
style that only great wealth could afford or ill 
taste admire. 

Lady Blessington with her " gorgeous charms " 
set the one-half of London society raving about 
her beauty and her extravagance ; the other 
half avoided the company of a lady with so 
speckled a past. 

There were at that time two great salons in 
London : the one at Holland House to which 
wit, beauty and respectability resorted ; the 
second being at Lady Blessington's house, to 
which only wit and beauty were attracted. 
Among the constant visitors to the latter may 
be named Canning, Castlereagh, who lived a 
few doors off; Brougham, Jekyll, Rogers, Moore > 



Sb 



33 



Kemble, Mathews the elder, Lawrence, Wilkie. 
Moore records a visit paid by him in May 1822, 
accompanied by Washington Irving. He speaks 
of Lady Blessington as growing " very absurd." 

" I have felt very melancholy and ill all this 
day," she said. 

"Why is that?" Moore asked, doubtless 
with becoming sympathy in his voice and 
manner. 

" Don't you know ? " 

"No." 

" It is the anniversary of my poor Napoleon's 
death." 

Joseph Jekyll, who was well known in society 
as a wit and teller of good stories and to his 
family as a writer of capital letters, was born 
in 1754, dying in 1837. It is quite startling to 
find him writing casually in 1829 of having 
talked with " Dr " Goldsmith ; how close this 
brings long past times ; there are those alive 
who met D'Orsay, who in turn knew Jekyll, who 
talked with Goldsmith. Jerdan speaks of Jekyll 
as having " a somewhat Voltaire-like countenance, 
and a flexible person and agreeable voice." 

He was a great hand at dining-out, though 
it distressed him to meet other old folk, whom 
he unkindly dubbed " Methusalems." 

In November 1821, he writes : " London still 
dreary enough ; but I have dinners with judges 
and lawyers — nay, yesterday with the divine 
bit of blue, Lady Blessington and her comical 
Earl. I made love and Mathews (the elder) 
was invited to make faces." 



34 D'Orsay 

And in the February of the succeeding year, 
he records another visit to St James' Square : — 

" London is by no means yet a desert. Lately 
we had a grand dinner at Lord Blessington's, 
who has transmogrified Sir T. Heathcote's 
ground floor into a vast apartment, and be- 
dizened it with black and gold like an enormous 
coffin. We had the Speaker, Lord Thanet, Sir 
T. Lawrence . . . ." etc. 

In June 1822 we find Blessington in quite 
unexpected company and engaged upon matters 
that would scarcely have seemed likely to appeal 
to him. On the first of that month a meeting 
was held of the British and Foreign Philanthropic 
Society, of which the object was " to carry into 
effect measures for the permanent relief of the 
labouring classes, by communities for mutual 
interest and co-operation, in which, by means 
of education, example and employment, they will 
be gradually withdrawn from the evils induced by 
ignorance, bad habits, poverty and want of em- 
ployment." Robert Owen was the moving spirit 
of the Society, and the membership was highly 
distinguished, including among other unforgotten 
names those of Brougham, John Gait and Sir 
James Graham. At a meeting at Freemasons' 
Hall, Blessington was entrusted with the reading 
of a report by the committee, in which it was 
recommended that communities should be estab- 
lished on Owen's wildly visionary plan. The 
meeting was enthusiastic, much money was 
promised, and — history does not record anything 
further of the Society. 



Ill 

MARS AND VENUS 

In France — a youthful son of Mars ; in England 
— Venus at her zenith. 

D'Orsay paid his first visit to London in 
1 82 1, as the guest of the Due de Guiche, to 
whom his sister, Ida, was married. De Guiche, 
son of the Due de Grammont, had been one of 
the many "emigrants" of high family who had 
sought and had found in England shelter from 
the tempest of the Revolution, and had shown 
his gratitude for hospitality received by serving 
in the 10th Hussars during the Peninsular War. 

Landor, writing some twenty years later, says : 
" The Due de Guiche is the handsomest man I 
ever saw. What poor animals other men seem 
in the presence of him and D'Orsay. He is 
also full of fun, of anecdote, of spirit and of 
information." 

Gronow describes him as speaking English 
perfectly, and as "quiet in manner, and a most 
chivalrous, high-minded and honourable man. 
His complexion was very dark, with crisp black 
hair curling close to his small, well - shaped 
head. His features were regular and somewhat 
aquiline ; his eyes, large, dark and beautiful ; and 
his manner, voice, and smile were considered by 
the fair sex to be perfectly irresistible " ; conclud- 

35 



36 D'Orsay 

ing, " the most perfect gentleman I ever met with 
in any country." 

So we may take it that D'Orsay did not feel 
that he was visiting a land with which he had 
not any tie of sympathy. 

His sister Ida was a year older than himself, 
or, to put it more gallantly, a year less young, 
and bore to him a strong likeness in appearance 
but not in disposition — fortunately for her husband. 
Her good looks were supported by good sense. 

William Archer Shee describes the Duchesse de 
Guiche as "a blonde, with blue eyes, fair hair, a 
majestic figure, an exquisite complexion ..." 

In those golden days the adornment of a 
handsome person with ultra-fashionable clothes 
did not qualify a man as a dandy. Much more 
was demanded. It was, therefore", no small 
feather in D'Orsay 's cap that he came to London 
an unknown young man, was seen, and by his 
very rivals at once acknowledged as a conqueror. 
His youth, his handsome face, his debonairness, 
his wit, were irresistible. Everywhere, even at 
Holland House, he made a good impression. He 
rode in Hyde Park perfectly "turned out," the 
admired of those who were accustomed to receive, 
not to give, admiration. At a ball at the French 
Embassy where all the lights of fashionable society 
shone in a brilliant galaxy, he was a centre of 
attraction " with his usual escort of dandies." 

At the Blessingtons' he was a favoured guest. 
Gronow, discreetly naming no names, writes of 
the "unfortunate circumstances which entangled 
the Count as with a fatal web from early youth " ; 



Mars and Venus 37 

surely a poorly prosaic way of describing the 
romantic love of a young man for a beautiful 
woman only twelve years his senior ? 

As Grantley Berkeley puts it : " The young- 
Count made a most favourable impression where- 
ever he appeared ; but nowhere did it pierce so 
deep or so lasting as in the heart of his charming 
hostess of the magnificent conversaziones, soirees, 
dinners, balls, breakfasts and suppers, that followed 
each other in rapid succession in that brilliant 
mansion in St James' Square." 

Grantley Berkeley also says: "At his first 
visit to England, he was pre-eminently hand- 
some ; and, as he dressed fashionably, was 
thoroughly accomplished, and gifted with superior 
intelligence, he became a favourite with both 
sexes. He had the reputation of being a lady- 
killer . . . and his pure classical features, his 
accomplishments, and irreproachable get-up, were 
sure to be the centre of attraction, whether in 
the Park or dining-room." 

Then of later times : "He used to ride pretty 
well to hounds, and joined the hunting men at 
Melton ; but his style was rather that of the 
riding-school than of the hunting-field. . . . 

"In dress he was more to the front ; indeed, 
the name of D'Orsay was attached by tailors to 
any kind of raiment, till Vestris tried to turn the 
Count into ridicule. Application was made to 
his tailor for a coat made exactly after the 
Count's pattern. The man sent notice of it to 
his patron, asking whether he should supply the 
order, and the answer being in the affirmative, 



38 D'Orsay 

the garment was made and sent home. No 
doubt D'Orsay imagined that some enthusiastic 
admirer had in this way sought to testify his 
appreciation ; but, on going to the Olympic 
Theatre to witness a new piece, he had the 
gratification of seeing his coat worn by Liston 
as a burlesque of himself." This "take-off" did 
not please D'Orsay, who withdrew his patronage 
from the Olympic and appeared no more in the 
green-room which he had been wont to frequent. 
But the town, which had caught wind of the 
joke, was delighted, and roared with merriment. 

Is there a hidden reference to D'Orsay's visit 
and possibly even to Lady Blessington in these 
lines from " Don Juan " ? 

" No marvel then he was a favourite ; 

A full-grown Cupid, very much admired ; 
A little spoilt, but by no means so quite ; 

At least he kept his vanity retired. 
Such was his tact, he could alike delight 

The chaste, and those who are not so much inspired. 
The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke, who loved ' tracasserie,' 
Began to treat him with some small ' agacerie.' 

"She was a fine and somewhat full-blown blonde, 

Desirable, distinguished, celebrated 
For several winters in the grand grand monde. 

I'd rather not say what might be related 
Of her exploits, for this were ticklish ground. . . . ' 

At a later date we find Byron describing the 
Count to Tom Moore as one " who has all the 
air of a cupidon ddchaint, and is one of the few 
specimens I have ever seen of our ideal of a 
Frenchman before the Revolution." 

Also at that later date (1823), when he met 
D'Orsay at Genoa with the Blessingtons, Byron 
was lent by Blessington a journal which the Count 



Mars and Venus 39 

had written during this first visit of his to London. 
When returning it, he writes, on 5th April : — 

" My Dear Lord, — How is your gout ? or 
rather how are you ? I return the Count 
d'Orsay's journal, which is a very extraordinary 
production, and of a most melancholy truth in 
all that regards high life in England. I know, 
or knew personally, most of the personages and 
societies which he describes ; and after reading 
his remarks, have the sensation fresh upon me 
as if I had seen them yesterday. I would, 
however, plead in behalf of some few exceptions, 
which I will mention by and bye. The most 
singular thing is, how he should have penetrated 
not the facts, but the mystery of English ennui, 
at two-and-twenty.* I was about the same age 
when I made the same discovery, in almost 
precisely the same circles — for there is scarcely 
a person whom I did not see nightly or daily, 
and was acquainted more or less intimately with 
most of them — but I never could have discovered 
it so well, // faut Ure Fran^ais to effect this. 
But he ought also to have seen the country 
during the hunting season, with * a select party 
of distinguished guests,' as the papers term it. 
He ought to have seen the gentlemen after 
dinner (on the hunting days), and the soiree 
ensuing thereupon — and the women looking as 
if they had hunted, or rather been hunted ; and 
I could have wished that he had been at a 
dinner in town, which I recollect at Lord 

* D'Orsay was but twenty at the time of his first appearance in 
London. 



4° D'Orsay 

Cowper's — small, but select, and composed of 
the most amusing people. . . . Altogether, your 
friend's journal is a very formidable production. 
Alas ! our dearly-beloved countrymen have only 
discovered that they are tired, and not that they 
are tiresome ; and I suspect that the communica- 
tion of the latter unpleasant verity will not be better 
received than truths usually are. I have read the 
whole with great attention and instruction — I am 
too good a patriot to say pleasure — at least I won't 
say so, whatever I may think. ... I beg that 
you will thank the young philosopher. ..." 

A few days later — how pleasing it is to find 
one great writer openly admiring another and a 
younger! — Byron writes to D'Orsay himself: — 

" My Dear Count d'Orsay (if you will 
permit me to address you so familiarly) — you 
should be content with writing in your own 
language, like Grammont, and succeeding in 
London as nobody has succeeded since the days 
of Charles the Second, and the records of Antonio 
Hamilton, without deviating into our barbarous 
language — which you understand and write, 
however, much better than it deserves. ' My 
approbation,' as you are pleased to term it, was 
very sincere, but perhaps not very impartial ; for, 
though I love my country, I do not love my 
countrymen — at least, such as they now are. 
And besides the seduction of talent and wit in 
your work, I fear that to me there was the 
attraction of vengeance. I have seen and felt 
much of what you have described so well . . . 



Mars and Venus 41 

the portraits are so like that I cannot but admire 
the painter no less than his performance. But 
I am sorry for you ; for if you are so well ac- 
quainted with life at your age, what will become 
of you when the illusion is still more dissipated ? " 

It is much to be regretted that this vivacious 
journal has never seen the light of publicity ; 
there must have been considerable interest in a 
piece of writing which so greatly attracted and 
excited the admiration of Byron ; but even more 
important, its pages would have helped to the 
understanding of D'Orsay and have brought us 
closer to him in these his young days. Further, 
a view of English society at that date by a 
candid Frenchman must have been highly enter- 
taining. D'Orsay, apparently having changed 
his mind with regard to persons and things, or 
fearing that the publication of so scathing an 
indictment might savour of ingratitude toward 
those who had entertained him with kindness, 
consigned to the flames this " very formidable pro- 
duction " of his ebullient days of youth. Another 
account is that it was destroyed by his sister. 

In 1822 D'Orsay tore'* himself away from the 
enchantments of London and bade farewell to 
the beautiful enchantress of St James' Square. 



IV 

THE PRIMROSE PATH 

In November 1822, D'Orsay again met Lady 
Blessington. 

Apparently it was at Blessington's express 
desire that the house in St James' Square was 
shut up ; its glories were dimmed with holland 
sheetings ; the mirrors that had reflected so 
much of youth and love and beauty were 
covered ; the windows that had so often shone 
with hospitable lights were shuttered and barred. 
On 25th August a start was made on a Con- 
tinental tour. Blessington was satiated with the 
turmoil of pleasures that London afforded, satiety 
held him in its bitter grasp. He had exhausted 
the wild joys of the life of a man about town ; he 
was still thirsty for enjoyment, but the accustomed 
draughts no longer quenched his thirst It was 
bluntly said by one that he was "prematurely 
impaired in mental energies." Whether that 
were or were not the case, judging by his con- 
duct during the remainder of his life he must 
have lost all sense of honour and of social 
decency. 

To the party of two a third member was 
added in the person of Lady Blessington's 
youngest sister, Mary Anne Power, a woman 
pretty in a less full-blown style than her sister, 

42 



The Primrose Path 43 

which caused her to be likened to a primrose set 
beside a peach blossom. Lady Blessington, who 
for herself preferred Marguerite to Margaret, 
renamed her sister Marianne. In 1831 Marianne 
married the Comte de St Marsault, but the union 
was disastrously unhappy. The Comte was an 
aged gentleman of ancient lineage, and his 
wintriness blighted the poor primrose. 

The tourists travelled in great style by 
Dover, Calais, Rouen, St Germain-en- Lay e, and 
so on to Paris. At St Germain Lady Blessing- 
ton's thoughts naturally turned toward the un- 
hallowed fortunes of the La Pompadour and du 
Barry. She pondered over the curious fact that 
decency does in social estimation take from vice 
half its sting, and over the coarseness displayed 
by Louis XV. in choosing his mistresses from 
outside the ranks of the ladies of his Court, 
rendering the refinement of Louis XIV. virtuous 
by contrast. She very truly says — and what 
better judge could we wish for upon such a point 
than she? — "A true morality would be disposed 
to consider the courtly splendour attached to the 
loves of Louis XIV. as the more demoralising 
■example of the two, from being the less dis- 
gusting." 

In Paris they halted for some days, meeting 
among other distinguished men with the volatile 
Tom Moore, whom Lady Blessington hits off 
with the singular felicity and simplicity of 
language that distinguishes her literary style. 
She found him to be of " a happy temperament, 
that conveys the idea of having never lived out 



44 D'Orsay 

of sunshine, and his conversation reminds one of 
the evolutions of some bird of gorgeous plumage, 
each varied hue of which becomes visible as he 
carelessly sports in the air." 

Lady Blessington's birthday, September ist, 
was celebrated during this visit to Paris, and she 
tells us that after a woman has passed the age of 
thirty the recurrence of birthdays is not a matter 
for congratulation, concluding with the striking 
remark: "Youth is like health, we never value 
the possession of either until they have begun to 
decline." 

From Paris they went on to Switzerland. 
Their travelling equipage not unnaturally aroused 
the wonderment of the onlookers who assembled 
to witness their departure. Travelling carriages 
and a baggage wagon — a fourgon — piled high 
with imperials and packages of all sizes ; the 
courier, as important in his mien as a commander 
of an army corps, bustling here, bustling there ; 
lady's maid busily packing ; valets and footmen 
staggering and grumbling under heavy trunks. 
Lady Blessington heard a Frenchman under her 
window exclaim : " How strange those English 
are ! One would suppose that instead of a single 
family, a regiment at least were about to move ! " 

Move at last the regiment did, though not 
without dire struggling. They are off! Amid a 
tornado of expostulations and exhortations ; off 
along the straight, dusty roads to Switzerland. 
Further we need not accompany them. For us 
the centre of interest lies at Valence, on the 
Rhone, where D'Orsay was with his regiment 



The Primrose Path 45 

under orders to march with the Due d'Angouleme 
over the Pyrenees. But to war's alarms D'Orsay 
was now deaf. He heard above the din of 
trumpet and of drum the call of love, and 
answered to it. He resigned his commission. 
For at the hotel where was established the 
regimental mess the Blessingtons arrived on 
November 15th; the romance of love eclipsed 
the romance of war. 

From this point onward there can be little 
doubt as to D'Orsay 's position as regards Lady 
Blessington, but as concerns Blessington every- 
thing grows more and more extraordinary, and 
more and more discreditable to the blind or easy- 
going husband. Charles Greville says that 
Blessington was really fond of the fascinating 
young Frenchman. He looked on him as a 
charming, happy comrade. It was at his per- 
suasion that D'Orsay threw up his commission, 
Blessington making "a formal promise to the 
Count's family that he should be provided for." 
At any rate such provision was made later on. 
Greville adds that D'Orsay 's early connection 
with Lady Blessington was a mystery ; certainly 
it was so as far as concerns the behaviour of the 
lady's husband. D'Orsay 's conduct is explicable 
in two ways : either infatuation for a beautiful 
woman blinded him to his real interests and 
rendered him unable to count the cost of the 
course he now decided to pursue, or he preferred 
to that of the soldier the do Ice far nitnte life of a 
dependent loafer. Possibly, however, the two 
motives mingled. 



46 D'Orsay 

The company was now complete and each 
member of it apparently entirely content. They 
moved on to Orange, and on November 20th 
reached Avignon, at which place a considerable 
stay was made. Avignon ! Petrarch and Laura ? 
Lady Blessington and Count d'Orsay! Glory 
almost overwhelming for any one town. The 
battlemented walls ; the ancient bridge ; the 
swift stream of the Rhone ; the storied palace of 
the Pope ; and the famous fountain of Vaucluse, 
given to fame by Petrarch ; a proper setting for 
the love of Alfred and of Marguerite. 

They stayed at the Hotel de l Europe, a com- 
fortable hostelry, an inn which many years before 
had been the scene of an incident which formed 
the groundwork of the comedy of The Deaf 
Lover, It was now the scene of incidents which 
might well have supplied the materials for a 
comedy of The Blind Husband: or, There are 
None so Short-sighted as those who Wont See ! " 

There was gaiety and society at Avignon, 
much social coming and going, dinners, dances, 
receptions and routs. The Due and Duchesse 
de Caderousse Grammont, who resided in a 
chateau close to the town, were doubtless de- 
lighted to see their young connection the Count, 
and to welcome his friends. Lady Blessington 
enjoyed herself immensely, and it is interesting 
to know that her refined taste was charmed by 
the decorum of French dancing : — 

"The waltz in France," she writes, "loses its 
objectionable familiarity by the manner in which 
it is performed. The gentleman does not clasp 



The Primrose Path 47 

his fair partner round the waist with a freedom 
repugnant to the modesty and destructive to the 
ceinture of the lady ; but so arranges it, that he 
assists her movements, without incommoding her 
delicacy or her drapery. In short, they manage 
these matters better in France than with us ;* 
and though no advocate for this exotic dance, I 
must admit that, executed as I have seen it, it 
could not offend the most fastidious eye." 

Lady Blessington was, as we know, an authority 
upon "objectionable familiarity." What would 
this fastidious dame have thought of the shocking 
indelicacy of modern ball-room romps ? Would 
"kitchen" Lancers have appealed favourably to 
her ? Would her approbation have honoured 
the graceful cake-walk ? But we must not linger 
over such nice inquiries ; we must not lose our- 
selves in the maze of might-have-beens, but 
must move on to fact, Southward ho! To Italy, 
the land of Love and Olives. 

* Cf. Sterne, A Sentimental Journey, ch. i. 1. i. 



V 

BYRON 

Genoa was reached on the last day of March 
1823, and Lady Blessington, as also doubtless 
D'Orsay, because of the sweet sympathy between 
two hearts that beat as one, was enraptured with 
the beautiful situation of the town, in her Journal 
breaking forth into descriptive matter which must 
be the envy of every conscientious journalist. 
Their entrance was made by night, and they 
found lodging at the Alberga del la Villa, a 
house situated upon the sea front, bedecked with 
marble balconies and the rooms adorned with a 
plenitude of gilding that brought comfort to the 
simple heart of Lady Blessington. But it was 
not by matters so material as its beauties or the 
comforts of its inns that her soul was really 
touched. To be in Genoa was to be in the same 
place as Byron, of whom the very morrow might 
bring the sight. The only fly in the honey 
was that the poet might still be fat, as, alack, 
Tom Moore had reported him to be when at 
Venice. An imperfect peer is sad enough ; but 
an obese poet — Oh, fie! 

On April first, auspicious date, the fair 
inspirer of poems met with the writer of them, 
the vision being not entrancing but disappointing 
to the eager lady. What it was to the poet we 

48 



Byron 



49 



do not know, though there are, indeed, quite firm 
grounds for surmising that Byron was not 
entirely pleased by the invasion of the privacy 
which he so jealously guarded, by the intrusion 
upon his retirement of the Blessingtons even 
when accompanied by D'Orsay. 

Ingenuity was practised in order to secure 
admission. The day selected for the drive out to 
Albano was rainy, a circumstance which it was 
calculated would compel even the most cur- 
mudgeonly of poets to offer hospitality and 
shelter. The event proved the soundness of the 
calculation. The carriage drew up to the gates. 
of the Casa Saluzzo ; the two gentlemen alighted, 
sent in their names, were admitted, were cordially 
welcomed. Outside in the downpour sat the two 
pretty ladies. We know not what emotion, if 
any, agitated Marianne Power ; but who can 
doubt that painful anxiety and doubt fluttered in 
the bosom of her sister ? Would Byron, or would 
Byron not ? To be admitted or not to be 
admitted ? Of what count were all the charms 
of Genoa, what weighed all the joys of illicit love, 
if she could not gain admission to the presence of 
the poet whose conversation — and her own — she 
was destined to record ? 

Slowly the minutes passed. Then at last 
came relief. Byron had learned that the ladies 
were at his gates ; breathless, hatless, he ran 
out. 

"You must have thought me," he gasped, 
"quite as ill-bred and sazivage as fame reports in 
having permitted your ladyship to remain a 



50 D'Orsay 

quarter of an hour at my door : but my old friend 
Lord Blessington is to blame, for I only heard a 
minute ago that it was so highly honoured. I 
shall not think you do not pardon (sic) this 
apparent rudeness, unless you enter my abode — 
which I entreat you will do." 

So the lady reports his speech, the which is 
precisely the manner in which Byron would have 
expressed himself — more or less. 

Lady Blessington was quite easily mollified, 
granting the pardon so gracefully sought, accept- 
ing his assisting hand, and, crossing the courtyard, 
passed into the vestibule. Before them bowed 
the uniformed chasseur and other obsequious at- 
tendants, all showing in their faces the surprise 
they felt at their master displaying so much 
cordiality in his reception of the visitors. 

The whole account in her Journal gives 
promise of the eminence to which Lady Blessing- 
ton afterward attained as a writer of fiction. 

Lady Blessington was disappointed in Byron 
as Oscar Wilde was by the Atlantic and Mr 
Bernard Shaw is by the world. He did not 
reach the ideal she had framed of the author of 
Childe Harold and Manfred. He was a jovial, 
vivacious, even flippant man of the world. His 
brow should have been gloomy with sardonic 
melancholy, and his eyes shadowed by a hidden 
orief which not even love or the loveliness of 
Lady Blessington could assuage. But, alas, for 
the evanescence of ideals ! 

Of this meeting we also have Byron's version. 
He writes to Moore : — 




Lord Kvko\ 

{By D'Orsay) 



I n I E ACK I'ACIE 50 



Byron 



51 



" Miladi seems highly literary, to which and 
your honour's acquaintance with the family, I 
attribute the pleasure of having seen them. She 
is also very pretty, even in a morning, — a species 
of beauty on which the sun of Italy does not 
shine so frequently as the chandelier. Certainly 
English women wear better than their Continental 
neighbours of the same sex." 

Accounts differ as to whether Byron did or 
did not extend familiar friendship to the Blessing- 
tons ; it really does not much matter — if at all. 
But it is of importance to know that he fell before 
the charms of the irresistible D'Orsay. Indeed 
so blinded was he with admiration that he not 
only discovered the young Frenchman to be 
"clever, original, unpretending," but also stated 
that "he affected to be nothing that he was not." 
We fancy D'Orsay would not have counted an 
accusation of modesty as a compliment. In such 
a man, properly conscious of his gifts, modesty 
can only be a mockery. Mock modesty is to the 
true what mock is to real turtle — an insolent 
imitation. D'Orsay was above all things candid, 
when there existed no valid reason for being 
otherwise. 

While at Genoa D'Orsay drew Byron's 
portrait, which afterward formed the frontispiece 
to Lady Blessington's Conversations of Lord 
Byron, which is quite the most realistic and 
skilful of her ladyship's works of fiction. The 
poet gave the painter a ring, a souvenir not to be 
worn for it was too large. It was made of lava, 
""and so far adapted to the fire of his years and 



52 D'Orsay 

character," so Byron wrote to Lady Blessington, 
through whose hand he conveyed the gift, per- 
chance deeming that by so doing he would 
enhance its value. 

Byron's yacht, the Bolivar, was purchased by 
Blessington for ^300, having cost many times 
that sum. The vessel was fitted in the most 
sumptuous manner ; soft cushions, alluring 
couches, marble baths, every extravagance that 
the heart of a woman could conceive or the purse 
of man pay for ; suitable surroundings for our 
modern Antony and Cleopatra. 



VI 

PILGRIMS OF LOVE 

"The Pilgrims from St James' Square" 
travelled onward through Florence to Rome, 
from which latter city they were driven in haste 
by the heat and the fear of malaria ; so to Naples 
where they arrived on July 17th. It was from 
the hill above the Campo Santo that they gained 
their first view of the town where they were to 
spend so many happy hours. On the brow of 
the eminence the postilions pulled up the horses, 
so that the travellers might at their leisure survey 
the wonderful panorama ; the towers, the steeples, 
the domes, the palaces, the multitude of gardens, 
the blue waters of the famous Bay ; Vesuvius out- 
lined against the spotless sky ; from behind the 
Isle of Capri the sun sending up broad shafts of 
light ; directly below them the high walls and the 
solemn cedars of the city of the dead. 

At the hotel Gran Brctagna, facing the sea, 
they secured comfortable quarters commanding a 
line view over the Bay, which enchanted Lady 
Blessington. But it was quickly decided that a 
less noisy abode was desirable, and after a pro- 
longed house-hunting the Palazzo Belvedere at 
Vomero was engaged. Before they could move 
into it English comforts had to be superimposed 
upon Italian magnificence, much to the amaze- 
ment of the Prince and Princess Belvedere, who 

53 






54 D'Orsay 

had not found their home lacking in anything 
material. Blessington must have been born 
with the bump of extravagance highly developed, 
and Lady Blessington did not do anything to 
depress it. The gardens of the Palazzo were 
superb and delightful the views they commanded. 
So in these luxurious surroundings the toil-worn 
travellers settled down to contentment — though 
the heat was intense. 

Of the rooms we may note that the salon 
was a spacious apartment, of which the four 
corners were turned into so many independent 
territories, of which one was occupied by Lady 
Blessington's paper-strewn table, and another 
by D'Orsay 's, artistically untidy ; the others were 
allotted to Marianne Power and to young Charles 
Mathews. Blessington had his own private 
sanctum, in which he busied himself with literary 
and artistic enterprises, all of which were still- 
born, except a novel, concerning which Jekyll 
gives this advice : " Don't read Lord Blessington's 
Reginald de Vavasour . . . duller than death." 

How charming a morning spent in that salon 
in that charming company : the Lady of the 
House, romantic and tender ; D'Orsay, debonair 
and gracious ; Marianne, pretty, never in the 
way, never out of it when her company was 
wanted ; and gay, young Charles Mathews 
intent upon his drawings. To them enter, upon 
occasion fitting or otherwise, the Lord of the 
House, too full of his own affairs to heed the 
affair that was going on before his eyes, or 
heedless of it, who can say which ; now bestow- 



Pilgrims of Love 55 

ing a caress upon his adoring wife, now casting a 
heavy jest to his young protSgk, the Count ; now 
summoning Mathews to come into his room and 
discuss the plans for the superb home that he was 
going to build in Ireland, but which remained a 
castle in the air. 

Charles James Mathews, who was born Decem- 
ber 26th, 1803, was m h^ s early years destined 
for the Church, but his exuberant high spirits 
scarcely foreshadowed success in that walk of 
life. Having evinced a decided taste for archi- 
tecture, he was articled to Augustus Pugin, 
whose office he entered in 1819. Charles James 
was a lively lad, quick of wit and ready of 
tongue, a well-read young fellow, too. In 
August, 1823, the elder Mathews received a 
letter from Blessington, who had returned from 
Italy and with whom he had long been intimately 
acquainted, expressing his intention to build a 
house at Mountjoy Forest and to give the 
younger Mathews "an opportunity of making his 
dibut as an architect." So off to the North of 
Ireland went Charles James, and for a couple of 
months lived a very jolly life with his "noble 
patron." The plans for the new house were ap- 
proved, but it was considered necessary to consult 
Lady Blessington before any final decisions were 
arrived at, and, eventually, the whole scheme 
was shelved. Young Mathews was invited by 
Blessington to accompany him on his return to 
Italy, and — says Mathews — "on the twenty-first 
of September, 1823, eyes were wiped and handker- 
chiefs waved, as, comfortably ensconced in the 



56 D'Orsay 

well-laden travelling carriage, four post-horses 
rattled us away from St James' Square." 

So it will be seen that kindly Blessington left 
Marguerite and Alfred to take care of each other 
this summer time, with Marianne to play goose- 
berry. Expeditions here, there and everywhere, 
were the order of the day ; drives along the 
coast, or in the evening down into Naples, to the 
Chiaja thronged with carriages. There were 
many English then resident in Naples, among 
them Sir William Gell, whom D'Orsay once 
described as " Le brave Gell, protecteur-gene>al 
des humbugs." He was evidently a bit of a 
''character"; a man of learning, withal, who 
wrote of the topography of Troy and the 
antiquities of Ithaca ; chamberlain to the eccentric 
Queen Caroline, in whose favour he gave his 
evidence ; an authority on Pompeii — and an 
amiable man. Mathews speaks of him as " Dear, 
old, kind, gay Sir William Gell, who, while 
wheeling himself about the room in his chair, for 
he was unable to walk a step without help, 
alternately kept his friends on the broad grin 
with his whimsical sallies " and talked archaeo- 
logical "shop"; "his hand was as big as a leg 
of mutton and covered with chalkstones " ; never- 
theless he could draw with admirable precision. 

Greville tells of him, some years later, as living 
in "his eggshell of a house and pretty garden, 
which he planted himself ten years ago, and calls 
it the Boschetto Gellio." Moore speaks of him 
as "still a coxcomb, but rather amusing." 

He was a man of sound humour ; he could 



Pilgrims of Love 57 

make fun out of his own misfortunes, as in this 
letter written from Rome in 1824 : " I am sitting 
in my garden, under the shade of my own vines 
and figs, my dear Lady Blessington, where I 
have been looking at the people gathering the 
grapes, which are to produce six barrels of what 
I suspect will prove very bad wine ; and all this 
sounds very well, till I tell you that I am posi- 
tively sitting in a wheelbarrow, which I found the 
only means of conveying my crazy person into 
the garden. Don't laugh, Miss Power." 

He was not always respectful to his royal 
mistress, for he accuses her of being capable of 
saying, "O trumpery! O Moses!" 

Lady Blessington was indeed fortunate in the 
guides who chaperoned her on her visits to the 
many interesting places around Naples ; Uwins, 
the painter, escorted her to picture-galleries and 
museums ; so did Westmacott, the sculptor ; 
Herschel, afterward Sir John, accompanied her 
to the Observatory ; Sir William Gell was her 
cicerone at Pompeii, and to D'Orsay fell the 
honour of everywhere being by her side. 

Pompeii inspired Lady Blessington to verse — 

" Lonely city of the dead ! 
Body whence the soul has fled, 
Leaving still upon thy face 
Such a mild and pensive grace 
As the lately dead display, 
While yet stamped upon frail clay, 
Rests the impress of the mind, 
That the fragile earth refined." 

The house-party was once again complete when 
Blessington and Mathews arrived in November. 



58 D'Orsay 

Young Mathews fancied he had dropped into 
Paradise, and gives a glowing description of his 
environment : " The Palazzo Belvedere, situated 
about a mile and a half from the town on the 
heights of Vomero, overlooking the city, and the 
beautiful turquoise-coloured bay dotted with 
latine sails, with Vesuvius on the left, the island 
of Capri on the right, and the lovely coast of 
Sorrento stretched out in front, presented an 
enchanting scene. The house was the perfection 
of an Italian palace, with its exquisite frescoes, 
marble arcades, and succession of terraces one 
beneath the other, adorned with hanging groves 
of orange-trees and pomegranates, shaking their 
odours among festoons of vines and luxuriant 
creepers, affording agreeable shade from the 
noontide sun, made brighter by the brilliant 
parterres of glowing flowers, while refreshing 
fountains plashed in every direction among 
statues and vases innumerable." 

Among the company Mathews found one of 
about his own age, with whom he struck up a 
firm friendship ; D'Orsay was naturally a fascin- 
ating companion and exemplar for any young 
man of parts. Enthusiasm glows in the 
following description: "Count d'Orsay ... I 
have no hesitation in asserting was the beau-ideal 
of manly dignity and grace. He had not yet 
assumed the marked peculiarities of dress and 
deportment which the sophistications of London 
life subsequently developed. He was the model 
of all that could be conceived of noble demeanour 
and youthful candour ; handsome beyond all 



Pilgrims of Love 59 

question ; accomplished to the last degree ; 
highly educated, and of great literary acquire- 
ments ; with a gaiety of heart and cheerfulness 
of mind that spread happiness on all around him. 
His conversation was brilliant and engaging, as 
well as clever and instructive. He was moreover 
the best fencer, dancer, swimmer, runner, dresser ; 
the best shot, the best horseman, the best draughts- 
man of his age." There are some touches of 
exaggeration here, but it is valuable as the im- 
pression made upon a shrewd youth of the world. 

He notes, too, that D'Orsay spoke English 
in the prettiest manner ; maybe with a touch 
of Marguerite's brogue. 

Mathews has given us a description of 
the routine of life at the Palazzo Belvedere : — 
"In the morning we generally rise from 
our beds, couches, floors, or whatever we 
happen to have been reposing upon the night 
before, and those who have morning gowns or 
slippers put them on as soon as they are up. 
We then commence the ceremony of washing, 
which is longer or shorter in its duration, 
according to the taste of the persons who use it. 
You will be glad to know that from the moment 
Lady Blessington awakes she takes exactly one 
hour and a half to the time she makes her 
appearance, when we usually breakfast ; this 
prescience is remarkably agreeable, as one can 
always calculate thus upon the probable time of 
our breakfasting ; there is sometimes a difference 
of five or six minutes, but seldom more. This 
meal taking place latish in the day, I always 



60 D'Orsay 

have a premature breakfast in my own room the 
instant I am up, which prevents my feeling that 
hunger so natural to the human frame from 
fasting. After our collation, if it be fine we set 
off to see sights, walks, palaces, monasteries, 
views, galleries of pictures, antiquities, a?id all 
that sort of thing ; if rainy, we set to our drawing, 
writing, reading, billiards, fencing, and everything 
in the world. ... In the evening each person 
arranges himself (and herself) at his table and 
follows his own concerns till about ten o'clock, 
when we sometimes play whist, sometimes talk, 
and are always delightful ! About half-past 
eleven we retire with our flat candlesticks in 
our hands. ... At dinner Lady B. takes 
the head of the table, Lord B. on her 
left, Count d'Orsay on her right, and I at the 
bottom. We have generally for the first service 
a joint and five entrdes ; for the second, a roti 
and five entries, including sweet things. The 
name of our present cook is Raffelle, and a very 
good one when he likes." 

A heated but brief quarrel between D'Orsay 
and Mathews gives us a glimpse of the former's 
hot temper. The two had become constant com- 
rades, fencing, shooting, swimming, riding, draw- 
ing together. 

Blessington had formed the habit of boring 
the party by insisting on their accompanying 
him on sailing trips aboard the Bolivar, his 
purchase from Byron, which expeditions had 
more than once culminated in their being be- 
calmed for hours and overwhelmed with heat 



Pilgrims of Love 61 

and ennui. One sultry morning when Blessington 
suggested a sail, they with one consent began to 
make excuses, good and bad : the ladies were 
afraid of the sun ; D'Orsay said a blunt "No," 
and Mathews was anxious to complete a sketch. 
To which last Lord Blessington remarked — 

" As you please. I only hope you will really 
carry out your intention ; for even your friend 
Count d'Orsay says that you carry your sketch- 
book with you everywhere, but that you never 
bring back anything in it." 

Possibly there was an element of truth in the 
criticism ; at any rate it struck home. 

It was apparently a somewhat sulky party 
that went a-driving that afternoon ; two charm- 
ing women and two ill-humoured young men. 
Suddenly, without any further provocation, 
Mathews burst out — 

" I have to thank you, Count d'Orsay, for the 
high character you have given me to Lord Bles- 
sington, with regard to my diligence." 

" Comment ? " responded D'Orsay. 

" I should have been more gratified had you 
mentioned to me, instead of to his lordship, any- 
thing you might have — " 

" Vous etes un mauvais blagueur, par Dieu, la 
plus grande bete et blagueur que j'ai jamais ren- 
contre, et la premiere fois que vous me parlez 
comme 9a, je vous casserai la tete et je vous jet- 
terai par la fenetre." 

Indubitably ill-temper, of which we know 
not the cause, had made the Count forget his 



62 D'Orsay 

manners ; Mathews rightly kept silent, reserving 
the continuation of the quarrel for a future and 
more proper occasion, and Lady Blessington 
aided him by the rebuke — 

" Count d'Orsay, I beg you to remember I 
am present, and that such language is not exactly 
what I should have expected before me." 

But the fiery Frenchman was not to be sup- 
pressed and answered hotly. 

In the evening Mathews received a note from 
D'Orsay, repeating the offence in almost more 
offensive terms. Of course, a duel was the order 
of the day ; Mathews wrote demanding satisfaction 
or an apology ; of which former he was promptly 
promised all he might desire to have. Mathews 
found his friend Madden willing to act as his 
second, but Blessington very naturally, as host of 
both the parties, refused to act for the Count. 
But Madden was a diplomatist, and despatched to 
D'Orsay what his principal terms a "very coolly 
written" letter, which called forth the following: — 

" Mon Cher Mr Madden, — Je suis tres loin 
d'etre fach£ que Mr Mathews vous ait choisi pour 
son tdmoin, ma seule crainte eut 6t6 qu'il en 
choisit un autre. 

" Je suis aussi tres loin d'etre offense" d'un de 
vos avis. Lorsque j'estime quelqu'un, son opinion 
est toujours bien rec,ue. 

" L'affaire, comme vous savez, est tres simple 
dans le principe. On me fit la question si 
Mathews avait dessine" a Capr6e ; je dis que non, 
mais qu'il emportoit toujours ses crayons et son 



Pilgrims of Love 63 

album pour ne rien faire — que cela etoit dommage 
avec ses grandes dispositions. Lord Blessington 
n'as pas eu le courage de lui repr^senter sans y 
meler mon nom, et Mathews a pris la chose avec 
moi sur un ton si haut que j'ai 6t6 oblige* de la 
rabaisser, apres lui avoir exprime que ce n'etoit 
que par interet pour lui que j'avois fait cette re- 
presentation. II a continue sur le meme ton ; je 
lui dis alors que la premiere fois qu'il prendroit un 
ton semblable avec moi je le jetterois hors de la 
voiture et lui casserois la tete. Je vous rdpete mot 
pour mot cette altercation. La seule difference que 
j'ai fait entre lui et un autre, c'est que je n'ai fait 
que dire ce que j'aurois fait certainement vis-a-vis 
d'un autre qui prendroit ce ton avec moi. Si j'ai 
accompagne mon projet d'avenir de mots offen- 
sants et inconvenants, j'en suis aussi fache* pour 
lui que pour moi, car c'est me manquer a moi- 
meme que d'user des mots trop violents. 

" Pour votre observation sur la difference des 
rangs, elle est inutile, car jamais je n'attache 
d'importance au rang qui se trouve souvent com- 
promis par tant de betes. Je juge les personnes 
pour ce qu'elles sont, sans m'informer qui ^toient 
leurs ancetres, et si mon sup£rieur eut employe* 
la meme maniere de me rapprocher qua pris 
Mathews, j'aurois surement fait ce que je n'ai fait 
que dire a Mathews, que j'aime beaucoup trop 
pour le rabaisser a ses propres yeux. II seroit 
ridicule a moi de ne pas avouer que j'ai tort de 
lui avoir dit des paroles trop fortes, mais en 
meme temps je ne veux pas nier mes paroles, 
c'est-a-dire, mon projet de voiture, etc. Si 



64 D'Orsay 

Mathews veut satisfaction, je lui donnerai tant 
qu'il lui plaira, tout en lui sachant bon gre de vous 
avoir choisi pour son temoin. 

" Cette affaire est aussi desagreable pour vous 
que pour nous tous, mais au moins elle n'alterera 
pas Tamitie de votre tout devoue, 

"Cte. d'Orsay." 

Upon receipt of which letter Madden advised 
Mathews to shake hands, which on meeting the 
Count the following morning he proceeded to do, 
the overture of peace being cordially received. 

" J'espere, mon cher Mathews," said D'Orsay, 
" que vous etes satisfait. Je suis bien fache pour 
ce que je vous ai dit, mais j'etais en colere et — " 

To which Mathews, interrupting — 

" Mon cher Comte, n'en parlons plus, je vous 
en prie, je l'ai tout-a-fait oublie ! " 

But apparently Lady Blessington had some- 
thing to say upon the affair, for later on Mathews 
found the Count with her, in tears, and a further 
apology followed. 

Then the storm-clouds cleared away and all 
again was sunshine. 

Madden who played the peacemaker, was 
Richard Robert of that name, born in 1798, and 
at that time studying medicine at Naples. In 
after years he was author of The United Irishmen, 
and of that curious book, The Literary Life and 
Correspondence of the Countess of Blessington. 
Mathews writes of him as "the witty, lively Dr 
Madden, at that time as full of spirits as of mental 
acquirements." 



VII 

MARRIAGE 

Here stands D'Orsay, jeune premier, the hero 

of this comedy a trots, with the limelight full 

upon him ; supported by Marguerite, Lady 

Blessington, as leading lady, of whom Landor 

said to Crabb Robinson: — "She was to Lord 

Blessington the most devoted wife he ever 

knew," which either speaks badly for the wives 

known to Walter Savage or more probably 

shows that he was as blind in the matter of the 

lady's virtue as he was with regard to her age, 

which in 1832 he declared to be about thirty. 

Probably in both cases he was judging simply by 

appearances, which in women are so apt to 

deceive men, particularly elderly poets. 

For what part shall we consider Lord 

Blessington as cast ? Villain or fool ? We 

incline to the latter : it takes a fairly astute man 

to play the villain with success ; moreover, no 

man smiles and smiles and is a villain without 

motive for his villainy — at least not in real life. 

To complete our company we have two light 

■comedians, Marianne Power, pretty and ever 

ready with a smile, and Mathews, always ready 

to provide amusing entertainment. For stage 
e 65 



66 D'Orsay 

crowd, diplomatists, antiquarians, artists, noble- 
men, servants and so forth : — 

Sir William Gell, whom we have met, with 
pleasure ; an Hon. R. Grosvenor, whom Lady 
Blessington declared " the liveliest Englishman I 
have ever seen," and considered that his gaiety 
sat very gracefully upon him ; queens of beauty, 
too, such as the Duchess di Forli, "with hair 
dark as the raven's wing, and lustrous eyes of 
nearly as deep a hue, and her lips as crimson as 
the flower of the pomegranate " ; the Princess 
Centolla, who "might furnish a faultless model 
for a Hebe, she is so fair, so youthful, and so 
exquisitely beautiful " ; an Hanoverian soldier of 
fortune, who came down to fight in Sicily and 
captured the heart and wealth of the Princess 
Bultera and her title too ; the lively, diminutive, 
aged Thomas James Mathias, writer of that 
pungent satire upon authors, Pursuits of Litera- 
ture, whose denial of his being the only begetter 
of it did not meet with credence. He was a man 
with peculiarities, one of which was the frequent 
use of the exclamation, " God bless my soul ! " 
Another was his singularly accurate memory for 
dates connected with the eating of any special 
dish. It was fortunate for him that motor-cars 
were not of his day, for he was extremely 
nervous when crossing the street. He appears 
also to have been curiously simple. One day 
while dining in a cafe a shower of rain came 
down heavily, and Sir William Gell remarked to 
Mathias that it was raining cats and dogs. On 
the instant, as luck would have it, a dog ran in 



Marriage 67 

at one door and a cat at the other. " God bless 
my soul," said Mathias, solemnly, "so it does! 
so it does ! Who would have believed it ! " 

There was Sir William Drummond, scholar 
and diplomatist, minister - plenipotentiary to 
Naples, whose brilliant conversation was a 
mixture of pedantry illuminated by flashes of 
imagination ; the Archbishop of Tarentum, a 
typical father of the Roman Church, "his face, 
peculiarly handsome, is sicklied o'er with the pale 
hue of thought ; his eyes are of the darkest 
brown, but soft, and full of sensibility, like those 
of a woman. His hair is white as snow, and 
contrasts well with the black silk calotte that 
crowns the top of his head. His figure is atten- 
uated and bowed by age, and his limbs are small 
and delicate ... ; " the astronomer Piazzi, dis- 
coverer of the planet Ceres ; General the Due di* 
Rocco Romano, "the very personification of a 
preux chevalier ; brave in arms, and gentle and 
courteous in society " ; Lord Dudley, eccentric as 
is easily pardoned in a peer with an income of 
,£40,000, with his unfortunate habit of expressing 
aloud his opinion, good or bad, of those with 
whom he conversed ; James Milligan, the anti- 
quary, to whom it was mere waste of time to 
submit a forgery as a genuine antique ; Casimir 
de la Vigne, who recited his unpublished 
1 Columbus " at the Palazzo. 

Fine company, of which but a few have been 
named ; a liberal education in themselves to a 
young man on his way through a world where the 
proper study of mankind is man — and woman. 



68 D'Orsay 

In junketings and journeyings the days sped 
by very merrily. Blessington himself was not 
fond of walking and was an enemy to sight- 
seeing of all kinds, so did not often join in the 
expeditions. Moreover, he was not an early 
riser, usually breakfasting in bed, and we cannot 
imagine that his company was very greatly 
missed ; four is company, five is a crowd. The 
expeditionary party, therefore, consisted of Lady 
Blessington and D'Orsay, Marianne Power and 
Mathews ; to which various guests were added 
as occasion and convenience dictated. 

The romantic beauty of the gardens of the 
Palazzo appealed to at any rate some of the 
members of the household. In the evening they 
would resort to the charming Pavilion at the end 
of the terrace, and there listen to the playing and 
singing of the servants, some of whom proved to 
be delectable masters of music. There was, too, 
an open-air theatre in the grounds ; the stage of 
springy turf, the proscenium formed of trees and 
shrubs, the seats of marble, backed by hedges of 
trimmed box and ilex. This shady playhouse 
the company frequented in the heat of the day ; 
fruits and iced drinks were served. A pleasant 
earthly paradise, wherein the tempting of Adam 
by Eve was highly civilised — in its externals. 

There were dinners on board the Bolivar, in 
the cabin wherein, it is said, Byron wrote much 
of " Don Juan " ; D'Orsay must have felt quite in 
his element there. 

In March 1825, the Palazzo Belvedere was 
deserted for the Villa Galla at Capo di Monte, 



Marriage 69 

a less palatial but more comfortable abode, also 
possessing grounds of great beauty. 

It was not until February 1826 that our party 
left Naples, where they had so greatly enjoyed 
themselves, returning to Rome, where they re- 
mained for a few weeks, going thence in April 
to Florence and in December being once again 
in Genoa. In Florence it may be noted that the 
Blessingtons and D'Orsay met Landor, with whom 
they quickly came to be upon terms of friendship. 

It was while on their first visit to Genoa, three 
years before this, that news had reached 
Blessington of the death at the age of ten of his 
son and heir, Lord Mountjoy. Of this unhappy 
event one of the results was that Blessington was 
able to make such disposition of his property as 
he considered right and proper, or at any rate 
to a certain and very considerable extent. Of 
this freedom he availed himself in a manner that 
proves either a lack of common understanding or 
actual inhumanity. Included in the arrangements 
he made was the marriage to D'Orsay of one of 
his daughters, this apparently in fulfilment of his 
promise to see to it that D'Orsay's future was 
provided for. Not content that the young 
Frenchman should be his wife's lover he decided 
to make him also his daughter's husband. Such 
a story told as fiction would be incredible. 

Three months after his son's death, Blessing- 
ton signed a codicil to his will, which ran thus : — 

" Having had the misfortune to lose my 
beloved son, Luke Wellington, and having 



70 D' Or say 

entered into engagements with Alfred, Comte 
d'Orsay that an alliance should take place 
between him and my daughter, which engage- 
ment has been sanctioned by Albert, Comte 
d'Orsay, general, etc., in the service of France, 
This is to declare and publish my desire to leave 
to the said Alfred d'Orsay my estates in the city 
and county of Dublin (subject, however, to the 
annuity of three thousand per annum, which sum 
is to include the settlement of one thousand per 
annum to my wife, Margaret, Countess of Bles- 
inton (sic) . . .). I make also the said Alfred 
d'Orsay sole guardian of my son Charles John, 
and my sister, Harriet Gardiner, guardian of my 
daughters, until they, the daughters, arrive at the 
age of sixteen, at which age I consider they will 
be marriageable. . . . (Signed) Blesinton." 

In August (1823) this amazing plan was more 
securely fixed by the making of a will. By this 
document D'Orsay was appointed one of three 
executors, each of whom received ^1000; to 
Lady Blessington was allotted ^2000 British, per 
annum, and all her own jewels. Then we must 
quote in full : — " I give to my daughter, Harriet 
Anne Jane Frances, commonly called Lady 
Harriet, born at my house in Seymour Place, 
London, on or about the 3rd day of August 1812, 
all my estates in the county and city of Dublin, 
subject to the following charge. Provided she 
intermarry with my friend, and intended son-in- 
law, Alfred d'Orsay, I bequeath her the sum of 
ten thousand pounds only. I give to my 



Marriage 7 1 

daughter, Emily Rosalie Hamilton, generally 
called Lady Mary Gardiner, born in Manchester 
Square, on the 24th of June 181 1, whom I now 
acknowledge and adopt as my daughter, the sum 
of twenty thousand pounds. 

"In case the said Alfred d'Orsay intermarries 
with the said Emily, otherwise Mary Gardiner, I 
bequeath to her my estates in the county and city 
of Dublin. ..." It did not matter upon which 
daughter the gallant and chivalrous D'Orsay fixed 
his fancy ; in either case he was to be well re- 
warded. D'Orsay knew that his future was 
assured. 

In fact, D'Orsay was handsomely dowered ! 
How joyous must have been the meeting between 
him and his sister at Pisa in 1826. Lady 
Blessington has left a pleasant picture of it in 
her Journal : — 

" Pisa. — Arrived here yesterday, and found 
the Due and Duchesse de Guiche (Ida d'Orsay) 
with their beautiful children, established in the 
Casa Chiarabati, on the south side of the Lung' 
Arno. The Duchesse is one of the most striking- 
looking women I ever beheld ; and though in 
very delicate health, her beauty is unimpaired. 
Tall and slight, her figure is finely proportioned, 
and her air remarkably noble and graceful. Her 
features are regular, her complexion dazzlingly 
fair, her countenance full of intelligence, softened 
by a feminine sweetness that gives it a peculiar 
attraction, and her limbs are so small and sym- 
metrical, as to furnish an instance of Byron's 



72 DOrsay 

favourite hypothesis, that delicately formed hands 
and feet were infallible indications of noble birth. 
But had the Duchesse de Guiche no other charm 
than her hair, that would constitute an irresistible 
one. Never did I see such a profusion, nor of 
so beautiful a colour and texture. When to those 
exterior attractions are added manners graceful 
and dignified, conversation witty and full of 
intelligence, joined to extreme gentleness, it 
cannot be wondered at that the Duchesse de 
Guiche is considered one of the most lovely and 
fascinating women of her day. It is a pleasing 
picture to see this fair young creature, for she is 
still in the bloom of youth, surrounded by her 
three beautiful boys, and holding in her arms a 
female infant strongly resembling her. One 
forgets la grande dame occupying her tabouret 
at Court, 'the observed of all observers,' in the 
interest excited by a fond young mother in the 
domestic circle, thinking only of the dear objects 
around her." 

Who better could appreciate this happy scene 
than Lady Blessington, with all her dear objects 
around her : her sister, her husband, her dear 
friend ? 

One more Pisan scene is worth quoting : — 

" March. — Mr Wilkie,* our celebrated painter, 
has come to spend a few days with us. He 
enjoys Italy very much, and his health is, I am 
happy to say, much improved. He was present, 
last evening, at a concert at the Duchesse de 

* Sir David Wilkie. 



Marriage 73 

Guiche's, where a delicate compliment was offered 
to her, the musicians having surprised her with 
an elegantly turned song, addressed to her, and 
very well sung ; copies of which were presented 
to each of the party, printed on paper couleur de 
rose, and richly embossed. This galanterie 
originated with half a dozen of the most distin- 
guished of the Pisans, and the effect was excellent, 
owing to the poetic merit of the verses, the good 
music to which they were wedded, and the un- 
affected surprise of the fair object to whom they 
were addressed. Mr Wilkie seemed very much 
pleased at the scene, and much struck with the 
courtly style of beauty of our hostess." 

Summer faded into autumn, but surely not too 
quickly for the ardent D'Orsay, who must have 
longed to take to his arms his schoolgirl bride, 
who was coming over from Dublin, where she 
had spent her childhood in the care of her aunt. 

It was a cruel thing to do, to fling this girl 
not yet sixteen years of age into the arms of a 
man entirely strange to her, who could not even be 
likely to learn to love her consumed with passion 
as he already was for another. What chance 
had the child of happiness ? As little as had 
Marguerite Power when forced to marry Farmer. 
Did Lady Blessington recall her first wedding- 
day as she stood by and watched this sacrifice ? 
She could not speak ; her tongue was tied ; what 
could it be to her if D'Orsay married ? And 
D'Orsay, what word of exculpation or excuse can 
be said for him ? Not one. Had he been free from 



74 D'Orsay 

intrigue this marriage would have been a mere 
episode — as marriage then was and now so often 
is — in the life of a man of the world. The 
little schoolgirl must marry someone ; why not 
D'Orsay ? D'Orsay must have money, why not 
obtain it by this simple means ? Even if he had 
desired to hold back, what excuse could he offer 
— to Blessington ? There have been few scenes 
so grimly sardonic, not one more tragic. 

On December ist 1827, Count Albert d'Orsay, 
only son of General Count d'Orsay, was married 
to Lady Harriet Anne Frances Gardiner at the 
British Embassy at Naples. Never can nuptials 
have been bigger with ill -fortune, which was the 
only fruit they bore. 

Some few months after the wedding Madden 
met the bride at Rome, and writes of her : — 

" Lady Harriet was exceedingly girlish- 
looking, pale and rather inanimate in expression, 
silent and reserved ; there was no appearance of 
familiarity with any one around her ; no air or 
look of womanhood, no semblance of satisfaction 
in her new position were to be observed in her 
demeanour or deportment. She seldom or ever 
spoke, she was little noticed, she was looked on 
as a mere schoolgirl ; I think her feelings were 
crushed, repressed, and her emotions driven 
inwards, by the sense of slight and indifference, 
and by the strangeness and coldness of every- 
thing around her ; and she became indifferent, 
and strange and cold, and apparently devoid of 
all vivacity and interest in society, or in the 
company of any person in it." 



Marriage 75 

Juliet mated with Lothario. Doubtless the 
latter was quite contented with his bargain, as 
indeed he had good cause to be. He had been 
paid a fine price for bending his neck to the yoke 
matrimonial, as is shown by the marriage settle 
ments to which act the parties were Lord 
Blessington, D'Orsay, Lady Harriet, the Due de 
Guiche, Lieutenant-General and Ecuyer of His 
Royal Highness the Dauphin, and Robert Power, 
formerly Captain of the 2nd Regiment of Foot. 
The deed is specifically stated as being designed 
to make provision for D'Orsay and Lady Harriet, 
''then an infant of the age of fifteen years or 
thereabouts." 



VIII 

ROME 

Early one night in December 1827, the Blessing- 
tons, the D'Orsays and Marianne Power arrived 
in Rome to find that the palace hired for their 
accommodation was entirely unsuitable and in- 
sufficient. House-hunting once again was the 
order of the day, the outcome being the renting 
of the two principal floors of the Palazzo Negroni 
for six months at one hundred guineas per month. 
Additional and doubtless unnecessary furniture 
was hired at a further cost of twenty guineas. It 
is quite amusing to hear of the domesticated 
Lady Blessington undertaking the transformation 
of countless yards of white muslin into window 
curtains and to see to a dozen or so of eider- 
down pillows being recased so that the hardness 
of half-stuffed sofas might be softened. Her 
account of the advantages of possessing a 
fourgon must be given in her own words, which 
could not be re-written without diminishing their 
merit : — 

" Thence comes the patent brass bed, that 
gives repose at night ; and the copious supply of 
books, which ensure amusement during the day. 
Thence emerges the modern invention of easy- 
chairs and sofas to occupy the smallest space 

76 



Rome 77 

when packed ; batteries de cuisine, to enable 
a cook to fulfil the arduous duties of his 
me'tier ; and, though last, not least, cases to 
contain the delicate chapeaux, toques^ be'rets ; and 
bonnets of a Herbault, too fragile to bear the 
less easy motion of leathern bandboxes crowning 
imperials." 

Doubtless the noble authoress found it im- 
possible to write unadulterated Saxon after listen- 
ing through so many hours to D'Orsay's gallant 
but broken English. 

At this time there were many English folk in 
Rome, to accommodate whose insular fancies there 
were English shops, including a confectionery 
establishment, which contributed to the indiges- 
tions of the British and the entertainment of the 
Romans. It was the custom then for English 

o 

travellers at Rome to make a point of doing what 
the Romans did not do ; happily all that has been 
changed for the better and to-day the Britisher 
abroad, and equally his cousins from America, 
behave themselves with consideration and becom- 
ing modesty, always. 

Here, as at Naples, D'Orsay made a large and 
interesting circle of friends. Among these was 
to be numbered the French Ambassador, the Due 
de Laval-Montmorenci, an antique who afforded 
much amusement. He is described as having- 
been a curious mixture of opposites ; simple and 
at the same time acute, well-bred and clownish, 
ostentatious and prudent, witty and wise — the last 
a very rare combination ; an old-fashioned beau 
in spite of his short memory and his deafness, his 



7 8 D'Orsay 



short sight and his unfortunate stammer ; a 
capital hand at an anecdote, good - tempered, 
good-humoured. One of his quaint peculiarities 
was the habit of falling asleep during a conversa- 
tion ; then an awakening after a few minutes' nap 
to exclaim : — " Oui, out, vous avez bien raisort, 
cest clair : je vous fais mes compliments : cest 
impossible d'etre plus juste.'' 1 

" Middle Ages " Hallam was another friend 
of these days, when also Walter Savage Landor 
was met again. 

The time was passed in a round of merry 
makings by all save the silent child-wife. 

Then in May their backs were turned upon 
Rome, or as Lady Blessington has it — " We 
leave the Eternal City — perhaps to see it no more. 
This presentiment filled me with sadness when 
I this evening from the Monte Pincio saw the 
golden sun sink beneath his purple clouds, his 
last beams tinging with a brilliant radiance the 
angel on the fortress of St Angelo, and the glorious 
dome of St Peter's." 

Of all their friends the one with whom they 
were most loath to part was Sir William Gell, 
who when bidding farewell to Lady Blessington 
said : " You have been visiting our friend 
Drummond's grave to-day, and if you ever come 
to Italy again, you will find me in mine." 

He died some eight years later, on 4th April 
1836. Of his last days Keppel Craven wrote an 
account to Lady Blessington : — 

"He never ceased, I don't say for an hour, 
but an instant, to have a book open before him ; 



Rome 79 

and though he sometimes could not fix his eyes 
for two minutes at a time on its contents, he 
nevertheless understood it, and could afterwards 
talk of the work in a manner which proved, that 
while his mental powers were awake, they were 
as strong as ever — more especially his memory ; 
but the state he was in, caused much confusion 
in his ideas of time and distance, of which he was 
aware, and complained of." 

The first Lord Lytton wrote of Gell : " I 
never knew so popular or so petted a man as Sir 
William Gell ; every one seems to love him." 

Gell was a capital letter-writer, as the follow- 
ing example will suffice to show. In April 1824, 
he writes to Lady Blessington : 

" I did really arrive at Rome . . . having ex- 
perienced in the way every possible misfortune, 
except being overturned or carried into the moun- 
tains. In short, I know nothing to equal my journey, 
except the ninety-nine misfortunes of Pulicinella 
in a Neapolitan puppet-show. I set out without 
my cloak in an open carriage ; my only hope of 
getting warmer at St Agatha was destroyed by 
an English family, who had got possession of the 
only chimney. I had a dreadful headache, which, 
by-the-bye, recollecting to have lost at your house 
by eating an orange, I tried again with almost 
immediate effect. Next morning one grey horse 
fell ill at the moment of being put to the carriage, 
and has continued so ever since, so that I have 
had to buy another, which is so very (what they 
call) good, that it is nearly as useless as the other, 
so that I never go out without risking my neck. 



80 DOrsay 

When, at length, I got to Rome in a storm of 
sleet, I found a bill of an hundred and fifty dollars 
against me for protecting useless lemon-trees 
against the frost of the winter, which, added to 
the expense of the new horse and the old one 
have ever since caused the horrors of a gaol to 
interpose themselves between me and every 
enjoyment, and so much for the ugly side of the 
question." 

Through Loretto, Ancona, Ravenna, Ferrara, 
Padua, the Blessingtons and company made their 
way to Venice, where they halted for several 
weeks, and where once again they forgathered 
with Landor. Then by Verona and Milan to 
Genoa, and in June 1828 they arrived in Paris. 



IX 

PARIS 

Back again in Paris, which lay blistering under 
the hot summer sun. Rooms were secured at 
the Hotel de Terrace in the Rue de Rivoli ; noisy 
quarters, and Lady Blessington was not fond of 
noise. 

"On entering Paris," says Lady Blessington, 
" I felt my impatience to see our dear friends 
then redouble ; and, before we had despatched 
the dinner awaiting our arrival, the Due and 
Duchesse de Guiche came to us. How warm was 
our greeting ; how many questions to be asked 
and answered ; how many congratulations and 
pleasant plans for the future to be formed. ..." 
Doubtless D'Orsay was again congratulated on 
having married a fortune. . . . "The Duchesse 
was in radiant health and beauty, and the Due 
looking, as he always does, more distingue' than 
anyone else — the perfect beau-ide'al of a noble- 
man. We soon quitted the salle a manger ; for 
who could eat during the joy of a first meeting 
with those so valued ? " 

The attitude of D'Orsay's family throughout 
this strange affair is amazing. Can they have 
really understood the situation ? Did they thank 
Blessington for having provided so munificently 
for their brother ? Did they express their grati- 

F 81 



82 D'Orsay 

tude to Lady Blessington for the many favours 
she had shown to him ? We can scarcely believe 
it so. But however all these things were, the 
evening passed pleasantly ; the windows of the 
salon looked out over the garden of the Tuileries, 
over their scented orange-trees and formal walks. 

The Comte and Comtesse d'Orsay were also 
in Paris, later on, and great must have been their 
satisfaction at seeing their son so well settled. Of a 
dinner at their house Lady Blessington — la belle 
mere of their son — says there was a "large family 
party. The only stranger was Sir Francis 
Burdett. A most agreeable dinner followed 
by a very pleasant evening." Did Countess 
Alfred enjoy it ? 

The next day Lady Blessington devoted to 
shopping, visiting among other high shrines of 
fashion Herbault's, where the latest things in 
caps, hats and turbans were tried and sentenced ; 
then on to Mdlle. La Touche where canezus and 
robes de matin were selected. Three hundred and 
twenty francs were given for a crape hat and 
feathers, two hundred for a ckapeaic a fieurs, one 
hundred for a neglige 1 de matin, and eighty-five for 
an evening cap of tulle trimmed with blonde and 
flowers. 

The hotel was a mere stop-gap, and the 
Blessingtons settled down in a house belonging 
to the Marquis de Lillers, which had once been 
the residence of Marshal Ney ; it was situated in 
the Rue de Bourbon, the principal rooms giving 
on the Seine and commanding a view over the 
Tuileries' gardens. The sumptuous scale of the 



Paris 83 

decorations is typified by those of the bathroom, 
where the bath of marble was sunk in a tessel- 
lated pavement, and over it swung an alabaster 
lamp hanging from the beak of a dove, the ceil- 
ing being painted with Cupids and flowers ; the 
walls were panelled alternately with mirrors and 
allegorical groups. Furniture, equally luxurious, 
was hired — dark crimson carpets with golden 
borders, crimson satin curtains also bordered in 
gold, sofas and chairs upholstered in crimson 
satin and richly gilded, gilt consoles, buhl cabinets, 
a multitude of mirrors ; a veritable orgy of gold 
and glitter. But all else was surpassed by the 
Blessington's chambre a coucher and her dressing- 
room, which she found to be exquisite, at any 
rate, to her taste : the silvered bedstead was sup- 
ported on the backs of two large silver swans,. 
the recess in which it stood . being lined with 
white fluted silk, bordered with blue lace ; pale 
blue curtains, lined with white, closed in its 
sanctity. There was a silvered sofa, rich coffers 
for jewels and for lace, a pale blue carpet, a lamp 
of silver . . . "a more tasteful or elegant suite 
of apartments cannot be imagined ! " For the 
housing of beauty and virtue what more fitting 
than silver, white and light blue ? " Chastely 
beautiful," so said its owner. Then, Heaven com- 
mend us to the unchaste. 

Gaiety was the order of the day, as it ever 
was when Lady Blessington and D'Orsay were in 
command ; drives in the Bois de Boulogne with 
the Duchesse de Guiche ; evenings at Madame 
Crawford's, whom Lady Blessington describes as 



8 4 D'Orsay 

gifted with "all the naivete" of a child. She pos- 
sesses a quick perception of character and a fresh- 
ness of feeling rarely found in a person of her 
advanced age." Here is a truly touching family 
group at a leave-taking breakfast : "It was touch- 
ing to behold Madame Crawford kissing again 
and again her grandchildren and great-grand- 
children, the tears streaming down her cheeks, 
and the venerable Due de Grammont, scarcely less 
moved, embracing his son and daughter-in-law, 
and exhorting the latter to take care of her health, 
while the dear little Ida, his grand-daughter, not 
yet two years old, patted his cheek, and smiled 
in his face." Doubtless Madame Crawford was 
not a little proud of her gallant D'Orsay ; we 
wonder what opinion, if any, she formed of his 
bride, and whether she congratulated her on 
marrying the grandson of a king ? 

Among other places of interest to which ex- 
peditions were made none can have come 
more closely home to the heart of Lady Bles- 
sington than D'Orsay, the fortified chateau of 
the family with which she was now so closely 
connected. 

Two letters written by members of the party 
to Landor are interesting, not only as showing 
the terms of friendship between the writers and 
the recipient. The first was from Blessington, 
dated 14th July : — 

" Oh ! it is an age, my dear Landor, since 
I thought of having determined to write. 
My first idea was to defend Vavaseur* but 

* His unsuccessful three-volume novel. 



Paris 85 

the book was lent to one friend or another, 
and always out of the way when the pen 
was in hand. My second inclination was, to 
inquire after you and yours ; but I knew 
that you were not fond of corresponding, so 
that sensation passed away. And now my 
third is to tell you that Lady B. has taken an 
apartment in the late residence of Marshal Ney, 
and wishes much that some whim, caprice, or 
other impelling power, should transform you 
across the Alps, and give her the pleasure of 
again seeing you. Here we have been nearly 
five weeks, and, unlike Italy and its suns, we 
have no remembrance of the former, but in the 
rolling of the thunder ; and when we see the 
latter, we espy at the same time the threatening 
clouds on the horizon. To balance or assist such 
pleasure, we have an apartment bien de'core with 
Ja?'din de Tuileries en face, and our apartment 
being at the corner, we have the double advan- 
tage of all the row, from morn till night. Dili- 
gences and fiacres — coachmen cracking their 
whips, stallions neighing — carts with empty wine- 
barrels — all sorts of discordant music, and all 
sorts of cries, songs, and the jingling of 
bells. . . ." 

The second letter is from D'Orsay, who dates 
his note 4th September, and writes from the 
H6tel Ney : — 

" J'ai recu, mon cher M. Landor, votre lettre. 
Elle nous a fait le plus grand plaisir. Vous 
devriez etre plus que convaincu que j'appr^cirois 



86 D'Orsay 

particulierement une lettre de vous, mais il paroit 
que notre intimite* de Florence ne compte pour 
rien a vos yeux, si vous doutez du plaisir que vos 
nouvelles doivent produire dans notre interieur. 
Sitot que je recevrai les tableaux je ferai votre 
commission avec exactitude. Je desirerois bien 
que vous veniez a Paris, car nous avons de belles 
choses a vous montrer ; surtout en fait de tab- 
leaux. A propos de cela, je vous envoye ci 
joint le portrait du Prince Borgh^se que vous 
trouverez j'espere ressemblant. . . . Nous par- 
Ions et pensons souvent de vous, il est assez 
curieux que vous soyez en odeur de saintete dans 
cette famille, car il me semble que ce n'est pas 
la chose dont nous vous piquiez particulierement 
d'etre. Lady B. et toutes nos dames vous en- 
voye mille amities, et moi je ne fais que re- 
nouveller l'assurance de la sincerite* de la mienne. 
Votre tres affectionne\ D'Orsay." 

Of a visit to the opera this is a pleasant 
reminiscence : — " Went to the Opera last night, 
where I saw the didut of the new danseuse 
Taglioni. Hers is a totally new style of danc- 
ing ; graceful beyond all comparison, wonderful 
lightness, an absence of all violent effort, or at 
least of the appearance of it, and a modesty as 
new as it is delightful to witness in her art. . . . 
The Due de Gazes, who came into the Duchesse 
de Guiche's box, was enthusiastic in his praises 
of Mademoiselle Taglioni, and said hers was the 
most poetical style of dancing he had even seen. 
Another observed that it was indeed the poetry 



Paris 87 

of motion. I would describe it as the epic of 
dancing," a not very brilliant remark for a woman 
of reputed wit. 

Henry Greville writing in 1832 says : 
11 Taglioni is dancing at Covent Garden ; it is 
impossible to conceive the perfection to which 
she has brought the art. She is an animated 
statue ; her motions are the perfection of grace 
and decency, and her strength quite marvellous." 
And again in Paris, four years later, when she 
was still highly proper : "Her grace and de'cence 
are something that no one can imagine who has 
not seen her." The actor complains that nothing 
remains of his art by which posterity can judge 
him ; but the dancer can, at any rate, leave behind 
a reputation for propriety — while on the stage. 

A welcome visitor was Charles Kemble, who 
dined with the Blessingtons, and after dinner 
read to the party his daughter's, Fanny Kemble's 
play, Francis the First. " I remembered," says 
Lady Blessington, "those pleasant evenings 
when he used to read to us in London, hour 
after hour, until the timepiece warned us to give 
over. I remembered, too, John Kemble — ' the 
great John Kemble,' as Lord Guildford used to 
call him — twice or thrice reading to us with Sir 
T(homas) Lawrence ; and the tones of Charles 
Kemble's voice, and the expression of his face, 
forcibly reminded me of our departed friend." 

In 1829 an event befell, which probably 
altered the course of D'Orsay's career, and which 
may be counted as a nice stroke of irony on the 
part of Fate, that past-mistress of the ironical. 



88 D'Orsay 

The question of the repeal of the civil dis- 
abilities inflicted upon the Irish Catholics had 
grown to be a burning question, and Lord 
Rosslyn wrote anxiously to Paris, urging 
Blessington to go over to London to support 
in the House of Lords the Duke of Wellington's 
Catholic Emancipation Act. On July 15th, 
Blessington set out for England; "his going," 
wrote his wife, ' c at this moment, when he is 
far from well, is no little sacrifice of personal 
comfort ; but never did he consider himself 
when a duty was to be performed. I wish the 
question was carried, and he safely back again." 
While in town he presided at the Covent Garden 
Theatrical Fund annual dinner. After an absence 
of only a few days he returned to Paris, appar- 
ently in improved health, and — indulgent husband 
that he was — laden with gifts for his lovely wife. 

But disaster was at hand. While riding - out 
in the heat he was seized with apoplexy in 
the Champs Elysees. He lingered, speechless, 
until half-past four on the following Monday 
morning when he breathed his last. Lady 
Blessington was stunned with grief by the 
sudden calamity. 

The remains were conveyed to Dublin, where 
they were interred in Saint Thomas' Church, 
Marlborough Street. 

What epitaph are we to write ? What 
character to paint of this man, so well-beloved, 
yet possessing so little strength, so little self- 
restraint, such a pittance of ability ? Landor 
wrote of him to Lady Blessington — 



Paris 89 

" Dear Lady Blessington, — If I defer it 
any longer, I know not how or when I shall 
be able to fulfil so melancholy a duty. The 
whole of this day I have spent in that torpid 
depression, which you may feel without a great 
calamity, and which others can never feel at 
all. Every one that knows me, knows the 
sentiments I bore towards that disinterested, and 
upright, and kind-hearted man, than whom none 
was ever dearer, or more delightful to his friends. 
If to be condoled with by many, if to be esteemed 
and beloved by all whom you have admitted to 
your society is any comfort, that comfort at least 
is yours. I know how inadequate it must be 
at such a moment, but I know too that the 
sentiment will survive when the bitterness of 
sorrow shall have passed away." 

And again he writes to her : 

" Too well was I aware how great my pain 
must be in reading your letter. So many hopes 
are thrown away from us by this cruel and 
unexpected blow. I cannot part with the one 
of which the greatness and the justness of your 
grief almost deprives me, that you will recover 
your health and spirits. If they could return at 
once, or very soon, you would be unworthy of 
that love which the kindest and best of human 
beings lavished on you. Longer life was not 
necessary for him to estimate your affection for 
him, and those graces of soul which your beauty 
in its brightest day but faintly shadowed. He 
told me that you were requisite to his happiness, 



90 D'Orsay 

and that he could not live without you. Suppose 
that he had survived you, his departure in that 
case could not have been so easy as it was, 
unconscious of pain, of giving it, or of leaving 
it behind. I am comforted at the reflection 
that so gentle a heart received no affliction 
from the anguish and despair of those he 
loved." 

Five years later Lady Blessington writes to 
Landor : — 

" I have often wished that you would note 
down for me your reminiscences of your friend- 
ship, and the conversations it led to with my 
dear and ever-to-be-lamented husband ; he who 
so valued and loved you, and who was so little 
understood by the common herd of mankind. 
We, who knew the nobleness, the generosity, 
and the refined delicacy of his nature, can render 
justice to his memory. . . ." 

Amid all this sugar, it is quite refreshing to 
come across a little acid, and Cyrus Redding 
speaks out quite plainly of Lady Blessington. 
He says : " She was a fine woman ; she had 
understood too well how to captivate the other 
sex. She had won hearts, never having had a 
heart to return. No one could be more bland 
and polished, when she pleased. She under- 
stood from no short practice, when it was politic 
to be amiable, and yet no one could be less 
amiable, bland and polished when her temper 
was roused, and her language being then well 
suited to the circumstances of the provocation, 



Paris 91 

both in style and epithet. . . . The gentry of 
this country, of all political creeds, are frequently 
censured for their pride and exclusiveness ; but 
they may sometimes be proud and exclusive to 
no ill end. The higher ranks have their exceptions, 
as well as others, of which Lord Blessington him- 
self was an instance. The dissipation of Lord 
Blessington's fortune, and the reception of Lady 
Blessington's favourite, the handsome youth, 
D'Orsay, into Lord Blessington's house, ran to- 
gether, it has been said, before the finish of his 
education. Old Countess d'Orsay was scarcely able 
to do much for her son, owing to the narrowness of 
her income ; but no family could be more respectable 
than hers. Lord Blessington was a weak-minded 
creature, and his after-dinner conversations, when 
the wine was in, became wretchedly maudlin." 

However, exit Lord Blessington and end 
Act One of our tragi-comedy. 



X 

A SOLEMN UNDERTAKING 

Our hero henceforth will occupy the centre of 
the stage, as a right-minded hero should do, 
beside him the shadowy figure of his wife 
gradually fading away into the background 
until at last quite invisible, and that of the flam- 
boyant personage of the widow of our hero's 
dead patron. Truly ironical ; while Blessington 
lived and was an " obstacle " in the way of the 
course of true love there had seemed to D'Orsay 
to be no other way of settling his fortunes than 
to marry one or other of Blessington's daughters, 
he cared not which. Now that the obstacle had 
been removed and the widow was free to be 
openly wooed and won, the path he had chosen to 
pursue appeared of those ways that had been open 
to him to be the most stupid. The lady who had 
been shackled was free ; the lover who had been 
free was now shackled. Fortune is a humorist 
and her jokes are always at our expense, which 
makes it difficult for us to laugh with her. 

Lady Blessington was clever in the choice of 
her physician, who prescribed company as a cure 
for depression of spirits. So we read in her lady- 
ship's Diary : — 

" My old friends Mr and Mrs Mathews, and 
their clever son have arrived in Paris, and dined 
here yesterday. Mr Mathews is as entertaining 

92 



A Solemn Undertaking 93 

as ever, and his wife as amiable and spirituelle. 
They are excellent as well as clever people, 
and their society is very agreeable. Charles 
Mathews, the son, is full of talent, possesses 
all his father's powers of imitation, and sings 
comic songs of his own composition that 
James Smith himself might be proud to have 
written." \ 

Old and young Mathews delighted with their 
songs and recitations a party attended among 
others by the Due and Duchesse de Guiche 
Madame Crawford and Count Walewski. 

Later on we find Rogers and Luttrell calling 
upon her, and the former chatting of Byron. Lady 
Blessington mentions a lampoon which the great 
had written on the little poet, and which Byron 
had read to her and D'Orsay one day at Genoa. 

" I thought you were one of Mr Rogers's 
most intimate friends, and so all the world had 
reason to think, after reading your dedication 
of the Giaour to him." 

"Yes," said Byron, with a laugh, "and it is 
our friendship that gives me the privilege of 
taking a liberty with him." 

" If it is thus you evince your friendship, I 
should be disposed to prefer your enmity." 

" Oh ! " said Byron, " you could never excite 
this last sentiment in my heart, for you neither 
say nor do spiteful things." 

Of Luttrell, Lady Blessington held a high 
opinion : " His conversation, like a limpid stream, 
flows smoothly and brightly along, revealing the 
depths beneath its current, now sparkling over 



94 D'Orsay 

the objects it discloses or reflecting those by 
which it glides. He never talks for talking's 
sake ; but his mind is so well filled that, like a 
fountain which when stirred sends up from its 
bosom sparkling showers, his mind, when excited, 
sends forth thoughts no less bright than pro- 
found, revealing the treasures with which it is so 
richly stored. The conversation of Mr Luttrell 
makes me think, while that of many others only 
amuses me." 

Luttrell, who was a natural son of Lord Car- 
hampton, was born about 1765, dying in 1851. 

Charles Greville tells us of these two friends, 
they were "always bracketed together, intimate 
friends, seldom apart, and always hating, abusing, 
and ridiculing each other. Luttrell's dons mots and 
repartees were excellent, but he was less caustic, 
more good-natured, but in some respects less 
striking in conversation than his companion, who 
had more knowledge, more imagination, and 
though in a different way, as much wit." 

An entry in Henry Greville's "Diary" is 
amusing, bearing in mind the above about Rogers 
and Byron : — 

" Thursday, October 27 (1836). — Dined with 
Lady Williams, Lord Lyndhurst, and Rogers. 
The latter said Lord Byron was very affected, 
and his conversation rarely agreeable and a con- 
stant effort at wit. I said I supposed he knew a 
great deal and had read. He answered : ' If you 
believe Moore he has read everything. I don't 
believe he ever read at all ! ' Rogers hated Byron, 
and was absurd enough to be jealous of him." 



A Solemn Undertaking 95 

Poets do not dwell together in unity. 

Rogers even in his young days was known, 
by reason of his corpse-like appearance, as the 
Dead Dandy ; and later on a wag said to him : 
" Rogers, you're rich enough, why don't you keep 
your hearse ? " 

This is a dinner-party that must have been 
interesting, Lord John Russell, Rogers, Luttrell, 
Thiers, Mignet, and Poulett Thomson ; Lady 
Blessington says : — 

" Monsieur Thiers is a very remarkable 
person — quick, animated, and observant ; nothing 
escapes him, and his remarks are indicative of a 
mind of great power. I enjoy listening to his 
conversation, which is at once full of originality, 
yet free from the slightest shade of eccentricity. 

" Monsieur Mignet, who is the inseparable 
friend of Monsieur Thiers, reminds me every 
time I see him of Byron, for there is a striking 
likeness in the countenance." 

The following reads strangely, so much have 
our habits and manners changed since 1829 : — 

" We dined at the Rocher de Cancale 

yesterday ; and Counts S and Valeski 

(Walewski) composed our party. The Rocher 
de Cancale is the Greenwich of Paris ; the 
oysters and various other kinds of fish served up 
con gusto, attracting people to it, as the white- 
bait draw visitors to Greenwich. Our dinner was 
excellent, and our party very agreeable. 

" A diner de restaurant is pleasant from its 
novelty. The guests seem less ceremonious and 
more gay ; the absence of the elegance that 



96 D'Orsay 

marks the dinner-table appointments in a ?naison 
bien montde, gives a homeliness and heartiness to 
the repast ; and even the attendance of two or 
three ill-dressed gargons hurrying about, instead 
of half-a-dozen sedate servants in rich liveries, 
marshalled by a solemn-looking maitre d 1 hotel 
and groom of the chambers, gives a zest to the 
dinner often wanted in more luxurious feasts." 

Then what shall we say to this for a sleighing- 
party, save that we would that we also had been 
there ? 

" The prettiest sight imaginable was a party 
of our friends in sledges. . . . Count A. 
d'Orsay's sledge presented the form of a dragon, 
and the accoutrements and horse were beautiful ; 
the harness was of red morocco, embroidered in 
gold. . . . The dragon of Comte A. d'Orsay 
looked strangely fantastic at night. In the 
mouth, as well as the eyes, was a brilliant red 
light ; and to a tiger-skin covering, that nearly 
concealed the cream-coloured horse, revealing- 
only the white mane and tail, was attached a 
double line of silver-gilt bells, the jingle of which 
was very musical and cheerful." 

Lady Blessington, the D'Orsays, and Marianne 
Power remained on for some considerable time 
in Paris after the death of Lord Blessington, 
the Revolution of 1830 providing them with 
some excitement. D'Orsay was always out and 
about, and though his brother-in-law de Guiche 
was a well-known legitimist and he himself a 
Bonapartist, the crowd was quite ready to greet 
the dandy with good-humoured shouts of " Vive 




D'Orsay 
(1830) 



[to face pace 



A Solemn Undertaking 97 

le Comte d'Orsay." Your crowd of sans-culottes 
dearly loves a dandy. 

Here is a quite pretty picture by Lady 
Blessington : — 

" 6th August. — I walked with Comte d'O(rsay) 
this evening into the Champs Elysees, and great 
was the change effected there within the last few 
days. It looks ruined and desolate, the ground 
cut up by the pieces of cannon and troops as 
well as the mobs that have made it a thorough- 
fare, and many of the trees greatly injured, if 
not destroyed. 

" A crowd was assembled around a man who 
was reading aloud for their edification a pro- 
clamation nailed to one of the trees. We 
paused for a moment to hear it, when some of 
the persons, recognising my companion, shouted 
aloud, ' Vive le Comte d'Orsay! Vive le Comte 
d'Orsay ! ' and the cry being taken up by the 
mass, the reader was deserted, the fickle multi- 
tude directing all their attention and enthusiasm 
to the new-comer." 

D'Orsay 's love of the fine arts induced him 
to make an effort to save the portrait of the 
Dauphin by Lawrence which hung in the 
Louvre. To achieve this he sent two of his 
servants, Brement, formerly a drill-sergeant in 
the Guards, and Charles, an ex- Hussar ; they 
found the picture, torn to ribbons and the 
fragments strewn upon the floor. 

As another example of his epistolary style 
we will quote this following from D'Orsay to 
Landor, dated Paris, 22 nd Aout, 1830 : — 

G 



98 D'Orsay 

"Je viens de recevoir votre lettre du 10. 

II falloit un aussi grand ev£nement pour avoir 

de vos nouvelles. Le fait est que c'est dans 

ces grandes circonstances que les gens bien 

pensant se retrouvent. Vous donner des details 

de tout l'hdroisme qui a 6t6 d^ploye dans ces 

journeys memorables, et difficiles il faudroit un 

Salluste pour rendre justice, et d'^crire cette 

plus belle page de l'histoire des temps modernes. 

On ne sait quoi admirer de plus, de la valeur dans 

Taction, ou de la moderation apres la victoire. 

Paris est tranquille comme la veille dun jour de 

fete, it seroit injuste de dire comme le lendemain, 

car la reaction de la veille donne souvent une 

apparence unsettled, tandis qu'ici tout est digne 

et noble, le grand peuple sent sa puissance. 

Chaque homme se sent releve" a ses propres yeux, 

et croiroit manquer a sa nation en commettant le 

moindre exces. Vous, veritable philosophe, serait 

heureux de voir ce qua pu faire T^ducation en 

40 annexes ; voir ce peuple apres, ou a l'epoque 

011 La Fayette le commanda pour la premiere fois, 

est bien different; en 1790 — l'accouchement 

laborieux de la liberty eut des suites funestes, 

maintenant Ton peut dire que la mere et Tenfant 

se portent bien. Notre present Roi est le 

premier citoyen de son pays, il sent bien que les 

Rois sont faits pour les peuples, et non les 

peuples pour les Rois. Si Charles Dix eut 

pense de meme s'il eut 6t6 moins Jesuite, nous 

aurions encore cette Race Cap^tienne. Ainsi 

comme il n'ya aucun moyen curatif connu pour 

o-uerir de cette maladie, il est encore tres heureux 



A Solemn Undertaking 99 

qu'il ait donne l'excuse legale pour qu'on 
renvoye. ... La Comtesse et Lady B. ont 6t€ 
d'un courage sublime, elles se portent bien. . . . 
Adieu, pour le moment. Votre tres affectionne, 

" D'Orsay." 

Before leaving Paris for London we must 
quote from Madden a passage which proves 
conclusively that not every Irishman has a saving 
sense of humour. " Shortly before the death of 
Count d'Orsay's mother," he writes, " who enter- 
tained feelings of strong attachment for Lady 
Blessington, the former had spoken with great 
earnestness of her apprehensions for her son, on 
account of his tendency to extravagance, and of 
her desire that Lady Blessington would advise 
and counsel him, and do her utmost to counter- 
act those propensities which had already been 
attended with embarrassments, and had occasioned 
her great fears for his welfare. The promise that 
was given on that occasion was often alluded to 
by Lady Blessington, and after her death, by 
Count d'Orsay." 

Such a solemn undertaking- must of course be 
carried out by an honourable woman, so when 
the Paris establishment was broken up by 
Lady Blessington, Count and Countess d'Orsay 
followed in her train, so that they might be near 
by to receive her counsel and advice. 



XI 

SEAMORE PLACE 

The London in which D'Orsay was destined to 

spend the majority of his remaining years, and 

of which he became so distinguished an ornament 

is far away from modern London, farther away 

from us, in fact, in manners, customs and 

appearance than it was from the metropolis of 

the England of Queen Elizabeth. Astounding 

is the change that has come about since the year 

1830 ; the advent of steam and electricity, the 

stupendous increase of wealth, the extension of 

education if not of culture, wrought a revolution 

during the nineteenth century. The first half 

of that century has rightly been described as 

"cruel, unlovely, but abounding in vital force." 

London was then a city very dull to look upon, 

very dirty, very dismal ; hackney coaches were 

the chief means of locomotion for those who 

could not afford to keep their own chariot, and 

were rumbling, lumbering, bumpy vehicles, 

whose drivers were dubbed jarvies. Fast young 

men were beginning to sport a cabriolet or cab ; 

omnibuses were of the future. " Bobbies "had only 

come into being recently, taking the place of the 

watchmen and Bow Street runners, who hitherto 

had taken charge of the public morals. Debtors 

were treated worse than we now treat criminals ; 

100 




io St James's Square 



[to face page ioo 



Seamore Place 101 

gaming-houses were in abundance, and to their 
proprietors profitable institutions. Drinking 
shops were open to any hour of the night, and 
drinking to excess was only gradually ceasing to 
be a gentlemanly, even a lordly, diversion ; clubs 
in our modern sense of the word were com- 
paratively few, coffee - houses, chop-houses, and 
taverns occupying their place to some extent. 
Restaurants and fashionable hotels were not, 
and ladies dined at home when their husbands 
disported themselves abroad. Prize-fighting was 
in its heyday ; duelling was the fashion. 

To this London, which, however, was not so 
dull as it looked, D'Orsay came in November 
1830, taking up his residence with Lady 
Blessington and his wife in St James' Square. 
But Lady Blessington soon found that her 
jointure of .£2000 a year could not by any 
stretching meet the expenses of such an 
establishment, and that a removal to cheaper 
quarters was compulsory. D'Orsay and his 
wife took furnished lodgings in Curzon Street, 
but later on joined Lady Blessington in the 
house in Seamore Place, which she had rented 
from Lord Mountford and furnished with an 
extravagance worthy of an ill-educated millionaire. 
As for example, let us take a peep into the 
library — Lady Blessington was very literary — 
which looked out upon Hyde Park ; the ceiling 
was arched and from it hung a lamp of splendour ; 
there were enamelled tables crowded with costly 
trinkets and knick-knacks ; the walls were lined 
with a medley of mirrors and book-cases, with 



102 D'Orsay 

as chief adornment Lawrence's delightful portrait 
of the mistress of the house, now in the Wallace 
Collection. The dining-room was octagonal, and 
environed by mirrors ; it was an age of mirrors 
and cut glass. 

Joseph Jekyll writes on June 20th, 1831 : 
"Nostra senora y of Blessington, has a house 
of bijoux in Seymour {sic) Place. Le Comte 
d'Orsay, an Antinous of beauty and an exquisite 
of Paris, married the rich daughter of Lord 
Blessington, and they live here with la belle 
merer And on 18th July: — "The Countess 
of Blessington gave a dinner to us on Friday. 
Lord Wilton, General Phipps, Le Comte d'Orsay, 
and myself — Cuisine de Paris exquise. The 
pretty melancholy Comtesse glided in for a few 
minutes, and then left us to nurse her influenza. 
The Misses Berry tell me they have dined 
with the Speaker and wife, who have thrown 
my Blessington overboard.* The English at 
Naples called my friend the Countess of 
Cursington." 

In January of the next year Jekyll was again 
present at a dinner in Seamore Place, other 
guests being George Colman, James Smith, 
Rogers and Campbell ; " There was wit, fun, 
epigram, and raillery enough to supply fifty 
county members for a twelvemonth. Miladi has 
doffed her widow's weeds, and was almost in 
pristine beauty. Her house is a bijou, or, as Sir 
W. Curtis' lady said, 'a perfect bougie.'" 

At Seamore Place Lady Blessington, with 

* If any, only a temporary estrangement. 



Seamore Place 103 

D'Orsay as ally and master of the ceremonies, 
gathered around her many of the most interesting 
and distinguished men of the time — statesmen, 
soldiers, writers, painters, musicians, actors, and 
many gay butterflies of fashion. 

But the triple alliance was soon reduced to a 
dual, Lady Harriet leaving Seamore Place, her 
husband and her stepmother — who doubtless had 
given her much good counsel and advice — in 
August, 1 83 1. It was not, however, until 
February, 1838, that a formal deed of separation 
was executed. This diminution of the number 
of the household in nowise damped the gaiety 
of the two who were left behind, indeed the 
presence of the child-wife must often have been 
a wet-blanket. As far as D'Orsay was concerned, 
she had fulfilled her fate by supplying him with 
an income, which he speedily overspent and 
frittered away. It is surely a blot upon our 
social economy that such a man should have 
been driven to such a course in order to secure 
the means of living. There ought to be a young- 
age pension for dandies, and their debts ought 
to be paid by the State, thus leaving them free 
to do their duty without harassing cares as to 
ways and means. A dandy of the first water 
is a public benefactor and as such should be 
subsidised. 

Nathaniel Parker Willis, an American 
journalist and verse writer, who wrote much 
that is now little read, has given accounts of 
various visits paid by him to Lady Blessington 
and D'Orsay, to the mistress and to her master, 



io4 D'Orsay 

at Seamore Place, and, as was the case with 
others who went there, apparently accepted the 
Count's constant presence as quite natural. In 
truth, why should he not frequent the house of 
his adorable stepmother-in-law ? Even when he 
was not chaperoned by his wife ? 

On the occasion of his first call Willis found 
Lady Blessington reclining on a yellow satin sofa, 
book in hand, her bejewelled fingers blazing with 
diamonds. He tells us that he judged her lady- 
ship to be on the sunny side of thirty, being more 
than ten years out in his surmise, which proves 
that either the lady was extremely well preserved 
or the visitor too dazzled by her beauty or her 
diamonds to be in full possession of his powers of 
observation. But then, what man could be so 
ungallant as to guess any pretty woman's age at 
more than thirty ? 

She was dressed in blue satin, which against 
the yellow of the couch must have produced an 
hysterically Whistlerian fantasia. Willis describes 
her features as regular and her mouth as expres- 
sive of unsuspecting good-humour ; her voice now 
sad, now merry, and always melodious. 

To them enter D'Orsay in all his splendour, 
to whom the fascinated Willis was presented. 

Thereon followed tea and polite conversation, 
the talk very naturally turning upon America and 
the Americans, Lady Blessington being anxious 
to learn in what esteem such writers as the young 
Disraeli and Bulwer were held in the States. 

" If you will come to-morrow night," she said, 
"you will see Bulwer. I am delighted that he is 



•eamore 



Place 105 



popular in America. He is envied and abused — 
for nothing, I believe, except for the superiority 
of his genius, and the brilliant literary success it 
commands ; and knowing this, he chooses to 
assume a pride which is only the armour of a 
sensitive mind afraid of a wound. He is to his 
friends the most frank and noble creature in the 
world, and open to boyishness with those whom 
he thinks understand and value him. He has a 
brother, Henry,* who is also very clever in a 
different vein, and is just now publishing a book 
on the present condition of France. t Do they 
like the D'Israelis in America?" 

Willis replied that the Curiosities of Litera- 
ture, Vivian Grey and Contarini Fleming were 
much appreciated. 

To which Lady Blessington graciously re- 
sponded : 

" I am pleased at that, for I like them both. 
D' Israeli the elder came here with his son the 
other night. It would have delighted you to see 
the old man's pride in him, and the son's respect 
and affection for his father. D' Israeli the elder 
lives in the country, about twenty miles from 
town ; seldom comes up to London, and leads a 
life of learned leisure, each day hoarding up and 
dispensing forth treasures of literature. He is 
courtly, yet urbane, and impresses one at once 
with confidence in his goodness. In his manners, 
D' Israeli the younger is quite his own character 
of ' Vivian Grey ' ; full of genius and eloquence, 

* Created Baron Dalling and Bulwer in 1871. 
f France, Social, Literary and Political. 



106 D'Orsay 

with extreme good-nature, and a perfect frankness 
of character." 

After some further desultory chat, Willis asked 
Lady Blessington if she knew many Americans, 
to which the reply was — 

"Not in London, but a great many abroad. 
I was with Lord Blessington in his yacht at 
Naples when the American fleet was lying there 
. . . and we were constantly on board your ships. 
I knew Commodore Creighton and Captain 
Deacon extremely well, and liked them par- 
ticularly. They were with us frequently of an 
evening on board the yacht or the frigate, and I 
remember very well the bands playing always 
' God save the King ' as we went up the side. 
Count d'Orsay here, who spoke very little English 
at the time, had a great passion for 'Yankee 
Doodle,' and it was always played at his request." 

Thereupon D'Orsay, in his pleasant, broken 
English, inquired after several of the officers, 
who, however, it turned out were not known to 
Willis. The conversation afterward turned upon 
Byron, and Willis asked Lady Blessington if she 
knew the Countess Guiccioli. 

"Yes, very well. We were at Genoa when 
they were living there, but we never saw her. 
It was at Rome, in 1828, that I first knew 
her, having formed her acquaintance at Count 
Funchal's, the Portuguese Ambassador." 

In the evening Willis availed himself of 
the invitation he had received, finding Lady 
Blessington now in the drawing-room, with some 
half dozen or so of men in attendance. Among 



Seamore Place 107 

these was James Smith, an intimate of D'Orsay's, 
in whose gaiety and savoir-faire he delighted. 
A pleasant story is this of later days, when Smith 
met the Countess Guiccioli at Gore House. 
After dinner these two chatted confidentially for 
the remainder of the evening, chiefly of their 
reminiscences of Byron, Leigh Hunt and Shelley. 
D'Orsay saw Smith home to his residence in 
Craven Street, and as he parted with him, 
asked — 

" What was all that Madame Guiccioli was 
saying to you just now ? " 

"She was telling me her apartments are in 
the Rue de Rivoli, and that if I visited the 
French capital she hoped I would not forget her 
address." 

" What ! It took all that time to say that ? 
Ah ! Smeeth, you old humbug ! That won't do ! " 

James Smith, who, with his brother Horace, 
was the author of the Rejected Addresses, 
was born in 1775.* He was a wit in talk 
and in prose as well as on paper and in verse. 
Here are some lines he addressed to Lady 
Blessington when she moved westward to Gore 
House — 

" You who erst, in festive legions, 

Sought in May Fair, Seamore Place, 
Henceforth in more westward regions 
Seek its ornament and grace. 

Would you see more taste and splendour, 

Mark the notice I rehearse — 
Now at Kensington attend her — 

Farther on, you may fare worse." 

* He died in 1839. 



108 D'Orsay 

Gout and rheumatism afflicted him sorely in 
his latter years, though his face retained its hale 
good looks. At Seamore Place — and on similar 
occasions — he was compelled to move about with 
the aid of a crutch, or in a wheel-chair, which he 
could manoeuvre himself, his feet sometimes 
encased in india-rubber shoes. Despite his 
infirmities his smile was always bright and his 
tongue ready with a witticism. 

When Jekyll asked him why he had never 
married, the response came in verse — 

" Should I seek Hymen's tie ? 

As a poet I die, 
Ye Benedicts mourn my distresses. 
For what little fame 
Is annexed to my name, 
Is derived from Rejected Addresses" 

But we must return to the drawing-room in 
Seamore Place. 

On the other side of the hostess, busily dis- 
cussing a speech of Dan O'Connell, stood a 
dapper little man, rather languid in appearance, 
but with winning, prepossessing manners, and a 
playful, ready tongue ; Henry Bulwer. There 
were others, such as a German prince and a 
French duke and a famous traveller. And — 
there was D'Orsay, a host in himself in both 
senses of the word, the best-looking, best-dressed, 
most fortunate man in the room ; yet despite it 
all — there he sat in a careless attitude upon an 
ottoman. 

It was nearly twelve o'clock, the witching 
hour, before Mr Lytton Bulwer (" Pelham ") 



Seamore Place 109 

was announced, who ran gaily up to his hostess, 
and was greeted with a cordial chorus of " How 
d'ye, Bulwer ? " Gay, quick, partly satirical, his 
conversation was fresh and buoyant. A dandy, 
too! 

Toward three o'clock i' the morn James Smith 
made a move and Willis his exit. 

In June 1834, Willis dined at Seamore Place, 
the hour appointed being the then unusually late 
one of eight o'clock. Again the company, who 
were awaiting the arrival of Tom Moore, was of 
mingled nationalities — a Russian count, an Italian 
banker, an English peer, Willis an American, and 
for host and hostess, a French count and an Irish 
peeress. Lady Blessington took the lead — so 
says Willis, and he should know for he was there, 
lucky dog — in the war of witty words that waged 
round the dinner-table, and we may be sure that 
D'Orsay was not among the hindmost. 

The talk was turned by Moore upon 
duelling — 

" They may say what they will of duelling ; it 
is the great preserver of the decencies of society. 
The old school, which made a man responsible 
for his words, was the better. I must confess I 
think so." He then told an amusing story of an 
Irishman — of all men on earth! — who "refused a 
challenge on account of the illness of his daughter," 
and one of the Dublin wits made a good epigram 
on the two — 

" Some men, with a horror of slaughter, 
Improve on the Scripture command ; 
And ' honour their ' — wife and their daughter — 
'That their days may be long in the land.'" 



no D'Orsay 



The " two " being the gentleman above referred 
to, and O'Connell, who had pleaded his wife's 
illness as an excuse upon a similar occasion. 

"The great period of Ireland's glory," con- 
tinued Moore, "was between '82 and '98, and it 
was a time when a man almost lived with a pistol 
in his hand. Grattan's dying advice to his son 
was : ' Be always ready with the pistol ! ' He 
himself never hesitated a minute." 

This we must take as a mere spark from 
the coruscations of brilliancy that fell from the 
lips of the beautiful hostess and her clever 
guests, from whom she had the art of drawing 
their best. 

Coffee was served in the drawing-room. 
Moore was persuaded to sing. Singing always 
to his own accompaniment and in a fashion that 
more nearly approached to recitation than to 
ordinary singing, Moore was possessed of 
peculiar gifts in the arousing of the emotions of 
his hearers, and accounted any performance a 
failure that did not receive the award of tears. 
On this occasion, after two or three songs chosen 
by Lady Blessington, his fingers wandered 
apparently aimlessly over the keys for a while, 
and then with poignant pathos he sang — 

" When first I met thee, warm and young, 

There shone such truth about thee, 
And on thy lip such promise hung, 

I did not dare to doubt thee. 
I saw thee change, yet still relied, 

Still clung with hope the fonder, 
And thought, though false to all beside, 

From me thou could'st not wander. 



Seamore Place in 

But go, deceiver ! go — 

The heart, whose hopes could make it 
Trust one so false, so low, 

Deserves that thou should 'st break it." 



Then when the last note had died away, he 
said "Good-night" to his hostess, and before the 
silence was otherwise broken — was gone. 

Dizzy was party to a famous duel which did 
not come off, consequent on fiery language used 
by O'Connell, who courteously rated him thus : 
" He is the most degraded of his species and his 
kind, and England is degraded in tolerating and 
having on the face of her society a miscreant of 
his abominable, foul and atrocious nature. His 
name shows that he is by descent a Jew. They 
were once the chosen people of God. There 
were miscreants amongst them, however, also, 
and it must certainly have been from one of these 
that Disraeli descended. He possesses just the 
qualities of the impenitent thief that died upon 
the cross, whose name I verily believe must have 
been Disraeli." 

Dizzy put himself in D'Orsay's hands, but the 
latter thought that it would scarcely be becoming 
for a foreigner to be mixed up in a political duel, 
though he consented to "stage-manage" the 
affair, which never came off, owing to O'Connell's 
oath never again to fight a duel. 

D'Orsay was exceedingly ingenious in 
drawing out the peculiarities of any eccentric 
with whom he came in contact, among his 
principal butts being M. Julien le Jeune de Paris, 
as he dubbed himself; he had played his small 



H2 D'Orsay 

part in the French Revolution and had been 
employed by Robespierre. This queer old 
gentleman had perpetrated a considerable 
quantity of fearful poetry, portions of which it 
was his delight to recite. These effusions he 
called " Mes Chagrins," and carried about with 
him written out upon sheet^ of foolscap, which 
peeped out modestly from the breast-pocket of 
his coat. It was D'Orsay's delight when M. 
Julien visited Seamore Place to induce him to 
recite a " Chagrin" the doing of which reduced 
the old man to tears of sorrow and the listeners, 
to tears of laughter. One evening a large party 
was assembled, among whom were M. Julien, 
James Smith, Madden, and Dr Quin, a physician 
whom young Mathews describes as " The ever 
genial Dr Quin . . . inexhaustible flow of fun 
and good-humour." D'Orsay gravely begged 
Julien to oblige the company, and overcame his 
assumed reluctance, by the appeal — 

" N'est ce pas Madden vous n'avez jamais 
entendu les Chagrins politiques de notre cher ami, 
Monsieur Julien ? " 

"Jamais," Madden stammered out, stifling a 
laugh. 

"Allons, mon ami," D'Orsay continued, 
turning again to his victim, "ce pauvre Madden a 
bien besoin d'entendre vos Chagrins politiques — 
il a les siens aussi — il a souffert — lui — il a des 
sympathies pour les blesses, il faut lui donner ce 
triste plaisir — n'est ce pas, Madden ? " 

" Oui," gurgled Madden. 

Then the funereal fun began. Julien planted 



Seamore Place 113 

himself at the upper end of the room, near to a 
table upon which some wax candles were burning, 
and drew forth his "Chagrins" from his breast. 
Lady Blessington seated herself at his left hand, 
gazing solicitously into his face ; at his other 
hand stood D'Orsay, ever and anon pressing his 
handkerchief to his eyes, and turning at one of 
the saddest moments to Madden, and whispering, 
4< Pleurez done ! " 

Quin, looking amazingly youthful, made his 
appearance during a particularly melting " Cha- 
grin" wherein the author, supposed to be in chase 
of capricious happiness, exclaimed : — 

" Le bonheur ! le voila ! 
Ici! Ici! La! La! 
En haut, en bas ! En bas ! " 

The doctor entered into the spirit of the affair, 
and whenever D'Orsay acclaimed any passage, 
would chime in with " Magnifique ! " " Superbe ! " 
" Vraiment beau ! " 

The recital ended as usual in a flood of tears. 

But D'Orsay was not yet contented, but must 
be further plaguing the tearful old gentleman. 
He whispered mysteriously to him, drawing his 
attention to Quin and James Smith. 

" Ah ! Que e'est touchant ! " exclaimed Julien. 
" Ah ! mon Dieu ! Ce tendre amour filial comme 
e'est beau ! comme e'est touchant ! " 

Then D'Orsay went up to Quin, and to his 
amazement said — 

"Allez, mon ami, embrassez votre pere! 
Embrassez le, mon pauvre enfant," then added, 

H 






ii4 D'Orsay 

pointing to Smith, who was holding out his arms, 
" C'est toujours comme 9a, toujours comme 9a, ce 
pauvre gar9on — avant le monde il a honte 
d'embrasser son pere." 

Quin took the cue ; jumped from his chair, 
and flung himself violently in Smith's arms, 
nearly upsetting the gouty old gentleman. 
Locked in each other's arms, they exclaimed — 
"Oh, fortunate meeting! Oh, happy reconcilia- 
tion ! Oh, fond father ! Oh, affectionate son ! " 
while D'Orsay stood beside them overwhelmed 
with emotion, Julien equally and really affected, 
sobbing, gasping, and exclaiming — 

"Ah! Mon Dieu! Que c'est touchantt 
Pauvre jeune homme ! Pauvre pere ! " 

Lord William Pitt Lennox first met Louis 
Napoleon at Seamore Place, also the Countess 
Guiccioli : — 

" My first acquaintance with Napoleon," he 
says, "was at an evening party at the Countess 
of Blessington's, in Seymour Place. On arriving 
there my attention was attracted to two indivi- 
duals, whom I had never previously seen. The 
one was a lady, who appeared to have numbered 
nearly forty years, with the most luxuriant gold- 
coloured hair, blue eyes and fresh complexion, 
that I ever saw. The other a gentleman, who, 
from the deference paid him, was evidently a dis- 
tinguished foreigner. Before I had time to ascer- 
tain the name of the latter, a friend remarked : ' H ow 
handsome the Guiccioli is looking this evening ! ' 

"'Splendidly,' I replied, as the idea flashed 
across my mind that the incognita must be 




Seamore Place 



[to face page 114 



Seamore Place 115 

Byron's 'fair-haired daughter of Italia,' Teresa 
Gamba, Countess Guiccioli. ' Do you know 
Madame Guiccioli ? ' I asked. 

"'Yes,' responded my companion; 'I met 
her at Venice, and shall be delighted to present 
you. . . .' 

" While conversing with the Guiccioli, Count 
d'Orsay approached us, and, apologising for his 
intrusion, said that Prince Louis Napoleon was 
anxious to be introduced to me, with a view to 
thanking me for my kind advice. Accordingly, 
I took leave of madame, but not before I had 
received her permission to call upon her at 
Sabloniere's Hotel, in what the ordinary fre- 
quenters of Leicester Square call ' le plus beau 
quartier de Londres.' " 

The advice referred to had come in a round- 
about way to Louis Napoleon, and had reference 
to the projected duel with Leon.* 

* See page 202. 



XII 

HANDSOME IS 

What manner of man was D'Orsay at this period 
of his life, when he was treading so gaily the 
primrose way of pleasure as a man about London 
town ? What were his claims to the reputation 
he gained as a dandy and a wit ? How did he 
appear to his contemporaries. 

That he was generally liked and by many looked 
on with something approaching to affection there 
is ample evidence to prove. Was ever a social 
sinner so beloved ? Was dandy ever so trusted ? 

He was strikingly handsome in face and 
figure, of that his portraits assure us. One 
enthusiast tells us : "He was incomparably the 
handsomest man of his time . . . uniting to a 
figure scarcely inferior in the perfection of its 
form to that of Apollo, a head and face that 
blended the grace and dignity of the Antinous 
with the beaming intellect of the younger 
Bacchus, and the almost feminine softness and 
beauty of the Ganymede." 

He was an adept in the mysteries of the toilet, 
as careful of his complexion as a professional 
belle ; revelling in perfumed baths ; equipped with 
an enormous dressing-case fitted in gold, as be- 
came the prince of dandies, which he carried 
everywhere, though it took two men to lift it. 

As to clothes, he led the fashion by the nose, 

116 



Handsome is — 117 

and led it whithersoever he wished. He indulged 
in extravagances, which he knew his reputation 
and his figure could carry off, and then laughed 
to see his satellites and toadies making themselves 
ridiculous by adopting them. His tailor, Herr 
Stultz, is reported to have proudly described 
himself as "Tailor to M. le Comte d'Orsay," full 
well knowing that the recommendation of mere 
royalty could carry no such weight. Where 
D'Orsay led the way all men of fashion must 
follow. Indeed, it was said that D'Orsay was 
fully aware of the value of his patronage, and that 
he expected his tailors to express substantial 
gratitude for it. When clothes arrived at Sea- 
more Place, in the most mysterious manner bank- 
notes had found their way into their pockets. Once 
when this accident had not happened, D'Orsay 
bade his valet return the garment with the message 
that " the lining of the pockets had been forgotten." 

The ordinary man, as regards his costume, 
takes care about the main points and permits 
the details to take care of themselves. Not so 
your true dandy. Thus we find D'Orsay writing 
to Banker Moritz Feist at Frankfort : " Will you 
send me a dozen pair of gloves colour ' feuille- 
morte,' such as they have on sale at the Tyrolean 
glove shops ? They ought to fit your hand (that's 
a compliment!), and (this is a fib!) I'll send along 
the cash." 

D'Orsay was sometimes quite unkind when 
friends spoke to him on the subject of some new 
garment he was sporting. 

Gronow meeting D'Orsay one day arrayed in 



n8 D'Orsay 

a vest of supreme originality, exclaimed : " My dear 
Count, you really must give me that waistcoat." 

" Wiz pleasure, Nogrow," — the Count's comical 
misrendering of Gronow's name — " but what shall 
you do wiz him ? Aha ! he shall make you an 
dressing-gown." 

What the Count could carry off would have 
extinguished the less-distinguished Gronow. 

In Hyde Park, at the happy hour when all 
''the world" assembled there, some driving, some 
riding, some strolling, some leaning on the rail- 
ings and quizzing the passers-by, D'Orsay was to 
be seen in all his glory. An afternoon lounge in 
the Park was as delightful then as it is nowadays. 

To quote Patmore : — 

4< See ! what is this vision of the age of chivalry, 
that comes careering towards us on horseback, in 
the form of a stately cavalier, than whom nothing 
has been witnessed in modern times more noble 
in air and bearing, more splendid in person, more 
distingut in dress, more consummate in equestrian 
skill, more radiant in intellectual expression, and 
altogether more worthy and fitting to represent 
one of those knights of the olden time, who 
warred for truth and beauty, beneath the banner 
of Cceur de Lion. It is Count D'Orsay." 

This language is as dazzling as the vision 
itself must have been ! 

Writing of various fashions in horsemanship, 
Sidney says : — 

"As late as 1835 it was the fashion for the 
swells or dandies of the period — Count d'Orsay, 
the Earl of Chesterfield, and their imitators — to 



Handsome is — 119 

tittup along the streets and in the Park with their 
toes just touching the stirrups, which hung three 
inches lower than in the hunting-field." 

Abraham Hay ward rode in the Park with 
D'Orsay in March 1838, "to the admiration of all 
beholders, for every eye is sure to be fixed upon 
him, and the whole world was out, so that I 
began to tremble for my character." 

Here is another contemporary account, which 
deals rather with the outer habit than with knight- 
like man : — 

11 From the colour and tie of the kerchief 
which adorned his neck, to the spurs ornamenting 
the heels of his patent boots, he was the original 
for countless copyists, particularly and collectively. 
The hue and cut of his many faultless coats, the 
turn of his closely-fitting inexpressibles, the shade 
of his gloves, the knot of his scarf, were studied 
by the motley multitude with greater interest and 
avidity than objects more profitable and worthy of 
their regard, perchance, could possibly hope to 
obtain. Nor did the beard that flourished 
luxuriantly upon the delicate and nicely-chiselled 
features of the Marquis (Count) escape the 
universal imitation. Those who could not culti- 
vate their scanty crops into the desirable arrange- 
ment, had recourse to art and stratagem to supply 
the natural deficiency." 

D'Orsay was indeed the Prince of the Dandies, 
it might be more truthfully said, the Tyrant. 
What he did and wore, they must do and wear ; 
the cut of his coat and the cut of his hair, the 
arrangement of his tie — the Prince could do no 



120 D'Orsay 

wrong. Of this sincere form of flattery a comical 
tale is told. Riding back to town one day, as 
usual capitally mounted, D'Orsay was overtaken 
by a downpour of rain. The groom, who usually 
carried an overcoat for his master, had this day 
forgotten to bring it. D'Orsay was equal to this 
as to most occasions. He spied a sailor who 
wore a long, heavy waistcoat which kept him snug. 

" Hullo, friend," called out D'Orsay, pulling up, 
"would you like to go into that inn and drink to 
my health until the rain s over ? " 

The sailor was naturally enough somewhat sur- 
prised, and asked D'Orsay why he was chaffing him. 

"I'm not," said D'Orsay, dismounting and 
going into the inn, followed by the sailor, " but I 
want your vest, sell it me." 

He took out and offered the poor devil ten 
guineas, assuring him at the same time that he 
" could buy another after the rain was over." 

D'Orsay put on the vest over his coat, 
buttoned it from top to bottom, remounted and 
rode on to town. 

The rain passed over, the sun came out again, 
and as it was the proper hour to show himself in 
Hyde Park, D'Orsay showed himself. 

"How original! How charming! How 
delicious ! " cried the elegant dandies, astonished 
by D'Orsay 's new garment, " only a D'Orsay could 
have thought of such a creation ! " 

The next day dandies similarly enveloped were 
" the thing," and thus the paletot was invented. 

An anecdote is told, with what authority or 
want of it we do not know, by the Comtesse de 



Handsome is — 121 

Basanville, bearing upon D'Orsay 's good nature. 
One day out riding he stopped at an inn, took out 
a cigar, and was going to call out for a light, when 
a lad who came out of the tavern, offered him the 
match with which he had been going to light his 
own pipe. D'Orsay, who was struck by the boy's 
politeness and good looks, began to chat with him. 

" From what country do you come ? " 

" From Wales, my lord." 

"And you don't mind leaving your mountains 
for the smoky streets of London ? " 

" I'd go back without minding at all," answered 
the boy, " but poor folk can't do what they want, 
and God knows when I'll be going back to my 
old mother who's crying and waiting for me." 

" You're ambitious then ? " 

11 1 want to get bread. I'm young and strong, 
and work's better paid in London than at home. 
That's why I've come." 

"Well," said D'Orsay, " I'd like to help you 
make your fortune. Here's a guinea for your 
match. To-morrow, come to Hyde Park when 
the promenade is full ; bring with you a box of 
matches, and when you see me with a lot of people 
round me, come up and offer me your ware." 

Naturally enough the boy turned up at the 
right hour and the right place. 

"Who'll buy my matches," he called out. 

"Aha! It's you," said D'Orsay. "Give me 
one quick to light my cigar." 

Another guinea — and the Count said care- 
lessly to those grouped around him — 

" Just imagine, that I couldn't smoke a cigar 



122 D'Orsay 

which is not lit with one of this boy's matches- — 
others seem to me horrible." 

No sooner hinted than done ; off went the 
matches and down came the guineas, and 
addresses even were given for delivery of a 
further supply. 

Even if this story be not true, it is charac- 
teristic. 

One other story of his power. 

A certain peer quarrelled violently with him ; 
result, a duel. It was pointed out to the unfor- 
tunate gentleman that if D'Orsay fought with him 
it would become the fashion to do so! When 
D'Orsay heard of his adversary's urgent reason 
for wishing not to meet him, he agreed readily 
that it was reasonable, and the affair was 
arranged. D'Orsay laughingly added : "It's 
lucky I'm a Frenchman and don't suffer from the 
dumps. If I cut my throat, to-morrow there 'd 
be three hundred suicides in London, and for a time 
at any rate the race of dandies would disappear." 

By Greville we are informed that D'Orsay was 
"tolerably well-informed," which surely must be 
the judgment of jealousy. 

In manner and habits D'Orsay grew to be 
thoroughly English, no small feat, while retaining 
all the vivacity, joie de vivre, and "little arts" of 
the Frenchman. But he does not seem ever to 
have acquired a perfect English accent ; Willis in 
1835 says of him, he "still speaks the language 
with a very slight accent, but with a choice of 
words that shows him to be a man of uncommon 
tact and elegance of mind." The language and 



Handsome is- — 123 

the waistcoats of those dandy days were alike 
flowery. 

It is difficult to decide, the evidence being 
scanty, whether or not D'Orsay was a wit of 
eminence, or a mere humorist. Chorley the 
musical critic, or rather the critic of music, said 
that his wit ''was more quaint than anything I 
have heard from Frenchmen (there are touches 
of like quality in Rabelais), more airy than the 
brightest London wit of my time, those of Sydney 
Smith and Mr Fonblanque not excepted." It was 
a kindly wit, too, which counts for grace. It is 
not unlikely that the broken English which he 
knew well how to use to the best advantage 
helped to add a sense of comicality to remarks 
otherwise not particularly amusing ; just as Lamb 
found his stammer of assistance. 

A little wit carried off with a radiant manner 
goes a long way, and we are inclined to believe 
that D'Orsay on account of his good-humoured 
chaff and laughing impertinences gained a reputa- 
tion for a higher wit than he really possessed. 
True wit raises only a smile, sometimes a rather 
wry one ; humour forces us to break out into 
laughter such as apparently usually accompanied 
D'Orsay 's sallies. The following is preserved for 
us by Gronow, who held that D'Orsay 's conversa- 
tion was original and amusing, but " more humour 
and a propos than actual wit." Tom Raikes, 
whose face was badly marked by small -pox, for 
some reason or other, wrote D'Orsay an anony- 
mous letter, and sealed it, using something like the 
top of a thimble for the purpose. D'Orsay found 



124 D'Orsay 

out who was the writer of the epistle, and accosted 
him with — "Ha! ha! my good Raikes, the next 
time you write an anonymous letter, you must not 
seal it with your nose ! " — looking at that pock- 
pitted organ. Which is more facetious than witty. 

Here is another story of a somewhat similar 
character, kindly provided me by Mr Charles 
Brookfield : — " My father once met D'Orsay at 
breakfast. After the meal was over and the 
company were lounging about the fireplace, a 
singularly tactless gentleman of the name of 
Powell crept up behind the Count, and twitching 
suddenly a hair out of the back of his head 
exclaimed : ' Excuse me, Count, one solitary 
white hair ! ' D'Orsay contrived to conceal his 
annoyance, but bided his time. Very soon he 
found his chance and approaching Mr Powell he 
deliberately plucked a hair from his head, exclaim- 
ing, ' Parrdon, Pow-ail, one solitary black 'air.' " 

Gronow also tells this. " Lord Allen, none 
the better for drink, was indulging in some rough 
rather than ready chaff at D'Orsay 's expense. 
When John Bush came in, d'Orsay greeted him 
cordially, exclaiming : " Voila la difference entre 
une bonne bouche et une mauvais haleine" 

D'Orsay, Lord William Pitt Lennox and 
"King" Allen were invited to dinner at the 
house of a Jewish millionaire, and the first-named 
promised to call for the other two. 

" We shall be late," grumbled Allen. " You're 
never in time, D'Orsay." 

"You shall see," answered D'Orsay, unruffled, 
and drove off at a fine pace. 



Handsome is — 125 

Even though they arrived in time Allen was 
not appeased, and grumbled at everything and 
everybody, and the cup of his wrath hopelessly 
overflowed when he overheard one of the servants 
saying to another : 

" The gents are come." 

"Gents," snorted Allen. "Gents! What a 
wretched low fellow ! It's worthy of a public- 
house ! " 

" I beg your pardon, Allen, it is quite correct. 
The man is a Jew. He means to say the 
Gentiles have arrived. Gent is the short for 
Gentile ! " 

Landor writes in June 1840 : " I sat at dinner 
(at Gore House) by Charles Forester, Lady 
Chesterfield's brother. In the last hunting season 
Lord Chesterfield, wanting to address a letter to 
him, and not knowing exactly where to find him, 
gave it to D'Orsay to direct it. He directed it — 
Charles Forester, one field before the hounds, 
Melton Mowbray. Lord Alvanley took it, and 
(he himself told me) gave it to him on the very 
spot." Landor goes on to speak of meeting a lady 
who accosted him with: "Sure, Landor, it is a 
beautiful book, your Periwinkle and Asparagus ! " 

But surely the most delightful thing D'Orsay 
ever said was on the occasion of a visit of him to 
Lady Blessington's publishers, whom he rated in 
high language. 

"Count d'Orsay," said a solemn personage in 
a high, white neckcloth, " I would sooner lose 
Lady Blessington's patronage than submit to 
such personal abuse." 



i26 D'Orsay 



" There is nothing personal," retorted D'Orsay, 
suavely. " If you are Otley, then damn Saunders ; 
if you are Saunders, then damn Otley." 

Edward Barrington de Fonblanque, nephew 
of Albany, records that D'Orsay was a capital 
raconteur, with an inexhaustible stock of stories, 
which he retailed "in a manner irresistibly droll." 
One of these anecdotes ran thus : — 

Meli^met AH asked of a Frenchman what was 
a republic. 

The reply was — 

"Si l'Egypte ^tait une rdpublique, vous seriez 
le peuple et le peuple serait le Pacha." 

Mehemet responded that he could not summon 
up " aucun gout, aucune sympathie, pour une 
r^publique." 

Madden says: "A mere report would be in 
vain, of the dons mots he uttered, without a faithful 
representation of his quiet, imperturbable manner 
— his arch look, the command of varied emphasis 
in his utterance, the anticipatory indications of 
coming drollery in the expression of his counten- 
ance — the power of making his entourage enter 
into his thoughts, and his success in prefacing his 
jeux (£ esprit by significant glances and gestures, 
suggestive of ridiculous ideas." 

To turn to another essential of the equipment of 
a complete dandy, D'Orsay was an accomplished 
gourmet. This gift must have added greatly to 
his usefulness in Lady Blessington's establish- 
ment, where doubtless he was master of the 
menus. Other folk also availed themselves of 
his skill in this direction. 



Handsome is — 127 

We quote from that staid depository of learning, 
The Quarterly Review, from an article published 
in 1835 and written by Abraham Hayward : — 

"It seems allowed on all hands that a first- 
rate dinner in England is out of all comparison 
better than a dinner of the same class in any 
other country ; for we get the best cooks, as we 
get the best singers and dancers, by bidding 
highest for them, and we have cultivated certain 
national dishes to a point which makes them the 
envy of the world. In proof of this bold assertion, 
which is backed, moreover, by the unqualified 
admission of Ude, we request attention to the 
menu of the dinner given in May last to Lord 
Chesterfield, on his quitting the office of Master 
of the Buckhounds, at the Clarendon. The party 
consisted of thirty ; the price was six guineas a 
head ; and the dinner was ordered by Comte 
d'Orsay, who stands without a rival amongst 
connoisseurs in this department of art : — 

" ' PREMIER SERVICE. 

<( ' Potages. — Printanier : a la reine : turtle 
{two tureens). 

" • Poissons. — Turbot {lobster and Dutch 
sauces) : saumon a la Tartare : rougets a la 
cardinal : friture de morue : white-bait. 

11 ' Releves. — Filet de bceuf a la Napolitaine : 
dindon a la chipolate : timballe de macaroni : 
haunch of venison. 

" ' Entries. — Croquettes de volaille : petits 
pat^s aux hultres : cotelettes d'agneau : puree 



128 D'Orsay 

de champignons : cotelettes d'agneau aux pointes 
d'asperges : fricandeau de veau a l'oseille : ris de 
veau pique aux tomates : cotelettes de pigeons a 
la Dusselle : chartreuse de legumes aux faisans : 
filets de cannetons a la Bigarrade : boudins a la 
Richelieu : saute" de volaille aux truffes : pat6 de 
mouton monte\ 

Cote. — Bceuf roti : jambon : salade. 



<< < 



" ' SECOND SERVICE. 

(ii Rots. — Chapons, and quails, turkey poults, 
green goose. 

'* ' Entremets. — Asperges : haricots a la Fran- 
chise : mayonnaise d'homard : gel^e Macedoine : 
aspic d'ceufs de pluvier : Charlotte Russe : gelee 
au Marasquin : creme marbre : corbeille de patis- 
serie : vol-au-vent de rhubarb : tourte d'abricots : 
corbeille de meringues : dressed crab : salade a la 
gelantine. — Champignons aux fines herbes. 

" ' Relives. — Soufflee a la vanille : Nesselrode 
pudding : Adelaide sandwiches : fondus. Pieces 
montees, etc., etc' 

" The reader will not fail to observe how well the 
English dishes — turtle, white-bait, and venison — 
relieve the French in this dinner ; and what a 
breadth, depth, solidity, and dignity they add to it. 
Green goose, also, may rank as English, the goose 
being held in little honour, with the exception of 
its liver, by the French ; but we think Comte 
d'Orsay did quite right in inserting it. . . . The 
moderation of the price must strike everyone." 

The Clarendon Hotel was situated in Bond 



Handsome is — 129 

Street and Albemarle Street, and with Mivart's 
in Brook Street shared the reputation of being 
the best hotel in town, holding the premier place 
for dining in luxury and elegance. 

In the later Gore House days D'Orsay must 
have been sorely vexed, though he showed it not 
openly, at a mishap at a dinner given by Lady 
Blessington and himself. It is best told in the 
words of one who was present : — 

" I well remember a dinner at Lady Blessing- 
ton's, when an event occurred that proved how 
ready the Cupidon de'chaine', as Byron called him, 
was to extricate himself from any difficulty. The 
party consisted of ten, and out of them there were 
about six who enjoyed what is called a glass of 
wine, meaning a bottle. Before dinner the Count 
had alluded to some splendid Clicquot champagne 
and claret of celebrated vintage. While we were 
waiting to sit down, D'Orsay was more than once 
called out of the room, and a quick-sighted indi- 
vidual hinted to me that he feared some unpleasant 
visitors of the dun family were importunate for 
some 'small account.' Still, there was nothing 
on the light-hearted Frenchman's face to show 
that he was at all put out. Dinner was announced, 
and all promised to go well, as the soup and the 
fish were unexceptionable, when my quick-sighted 
friend, who was a great gowniet, remarked that 
he saw no champagne. ' Perhaps,' I replied, 
sotto voce, 'it is being kept in ice outside.' The 
sherry was handed round, and repeated looks 
passed between the hostess and the Count, and 
between the same and the head servant. The 



130 D'Orsay 

entries were handed round, and a thirsty soul, 
with rather bad tact, for he was too gentleman- 
like to be deficient in taste, asked in an under- 
tone for a glass of champagne. The servant 
looked confused ; D'Orsay saw it, and exclaimed 
aloud : 'No champagne to-day ; my Lady and I 
have a treat for you — a royal treat. You know 
that the Queen has lately patronised what is 
called the Balmoral brose, and here is some.' 
At this moment one of the servants entered with 
a large jug containing this Scotch delicacy, which, 
of course, following the example of our hostess, 
we all declared to be excellent. ' Far better than 
wine,' said the late Lord Pembroke, a sentiment, 
I need scarcely say, in which the rest did not 
agree. Balmoral brose did duty for champagne 
and claret, and the only wine upon that memor- 
able occasion was sherry. Whether the butler 
was absent without leave, or the key of the cellar 
lost or mislaid, or, as was hinted by my neighbour 
at dinner, the wine merchant had been seized 
with a sudden fit of hard-heartedness, I know 
not. All I do know is, that a mixture of High- 
land whisky and honey was substituted for the 
foaming grape of eastern France." 

"Foaming grape" is good! Not good, how- 
ever, is the taste left by this anecdote ; a party of 
well-to-do men dining with D'Orsay and Lady 
Blessington, and cracking jokes behind their backs 
at their impecuniosity. 

D'Orsay was once dining with his brother 
dandy Disraeli, and was grieved by the undoubted 
fact that the dishes were served up distinctly cool. 



Handsome is — 13 1 

But the climax was reached when tepid ices were 
brought forward. 

"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed D'Orsay, "at 
last we have got something hot ! " 

As a matter of course the circumstances in which 
he was so ostentatiously living and his general re- 
putation kept D'Orsay outside the houses of those 
who did not open their doors to everybody, though 
most male folk were pleased enough to visit him 
and Lady Blessington at Seamore Place, where of 
womankind, however, none except relatives and 
exotics were to be met with. But even a dandy 
must find occasionally a crumpled rose-leaf in his 
bed. But what counted this exclusion against the 
having been spoken of by young Ben Dizzy as 
" the most delightful of men and best of friends," 
and by Victor Prevost, Viscount d'Arlincourt, as 
" le roi de la grace et du goiit " ? 

It took much to disturb D'Orsay's serenity 
and peace of mind ; he was one of those blessed 
beings, whom all we poor miserable sinners must 
envy, who did not own to a conscience. Certainly 
the being head over ears in debt did not cause 
him a moment's anxiety. He did not realise that 
money had any value ; guineas to him were 
simply counters of which it was convenient to 
have a sufficient supply wherewith to pay gamb- 
ling debts and to discharge the incidental ready- 
money expenditure of each day. As for other 
expenses, were not tradesmen honoured by his 
custom, were they not a race of slaves ordained 
to supply the necessities of noble men such as 
D'Orsay, was it not a scandal that they should 



132 D'Orsay 

dare to ask him to pay his bills ? What pleasure 
is there in the bills we pay? D'Orsay never 
denied himself anything which he could obtain 
for love or by owing money. It has even been 
said of him — and what will not little men say of 
even the greatest? — that he was "unscrupulous 
and indelicate about money matters." How poor- 
spirited the creature who could ask such a man 
as D'Orsay to pay back the money he had lent 
him or to render their due to the tailors and such 
like whom he had honoured with his patronage ! 
The spirit of a D'Orsay cannot be appreciated 
rightly save by one of kindred genius. Who that 
was worthy to be his friend would not feel 
honoured by a request from him for a loan, 
and injured by even a hint at repayment ? Of 
what value is a rich friend if he will not be your 
banker ? 

D'Orsay's finances from now onward were in 
a state of hopeless chaos, from which the efforts 
of his friends signally failed to extricate him. 
Which failure, however, in the long run cannot 
have made any difference ; to have hauled him 
out of his ocean of debt would only have landed him 
for a brief space upon dry land, whereon he would 
have gasped like a fish out of water ; he was a born 
debtor. His marriage had replenished, or rather 
filled, his exchequer ; then he proceeded with skill 
and rapidity to empty it. Why should not a colour- 
less wife contribute to the support of a resplendent 
husband ? Yet, marvellous, almost incredible, there 
were carping and jealous spirits who boggled over 
this and other transactions of Count d'Orsay. 



Handsome is — 133 

As for instance Patmore, commenting on 
D'Orsay's social difficulties, writes : — 

" And yet it was in England, that Count 
d'Orsay while a mere boy, made the fatal mistake 
of marrying one beautiful woman, while he was, 
without daring to confess it even to himself, 
madly in love with another, still more beautiful, 
whom he could not marry — because, I say, under 
these circumstances, and discovering his fatal 
error when too late, he separated himself from 
his wife almost at the church door, he was, during 
the greatest part of his social career in England, 
cut off from the advantages of the more fastidious 
portion of female society, by the indignant fiat 
of its heads and leaders." 

There are quite a wonderful number of 
blunders in the above meandering sentences. 

True as it was that he was cut by " the more 
fastidious portion of female society," D'Orsay found 
consolation, sympathy and understanding — doubt- 
less also advice and counsel — in the comradeship 
of Lady Blessington — and others. Grantley 
Berkeley tells us that D'Orsay " was as fickle as a 
French lover might be expected to be to a woman 
some years his senior." In which sneer there is 
a smack of insular envy. On the other hand 
Dickens, the exponent of the middle - class 
conscience, wrote of him as one " whose gentle 
heart even a world of fashion left unspoiled ! " How 
can history be written with any approach to truth 
when contemporary evidence differs so widely ? 
Was D'Orsay a saint or a sinner ? Who dare say > 

Society gossiped evilly about him, as it will 



134 D'Orsay 

do about anyone and everyone, telling tales that 
did not redound to his credit. The Duchesse de 
Dino retails this, under date February 20th, 

1834:- 

" A new and very ugly story is afloat concern- 
ing Count Alfred d'Orsay, which is as follows : 
Sir Willoughby Cotton, writing from Brighton at 
the same time to Count d'Orsay and to Lady 
Fitzroy Somerset, cross-directed the letters so 
that M. d'Orsay on opening the letter which he 
received, instead of seeing the mistake and 
stopping at the first line, which ran ' Dear Lady 
Fitzroy,' read it through and found, among other 
Brighton gossip, some pleasantries about Lady 
Tullemore and one of her lovers, and a sharp saying 
about himself. What did he do but go to the 
club, read out the letter before every one, and 
finally put it under cover and send it to Lord 
Tullemore ! The result very nearly was a crop 
of duels. Lady Tullemore is very ill, and the 
guilty lover has fled to Paris. Friends inter- 
vened, however, and the thing was hushed up 
for the sake of the ladies, but M. d'Orsay cut 
(and cuts) an odious figure." 

Such a story disgraces those who tell it, not 
him of whom it is told. D'Orsay guilty of hurt- 
ing a woman's reputation, directly or indirectly ? 
The idea is absurd ! Of a man too who was a 
philanthropist and one of the founders of the 
Societe de Bienfaisance in London ! 



XIII 

A LONDON SALON 

What have been the causes of the decline and 
fall in London of the salon as a social and sociable 
institution ? It is a difficult question to answer. 
Our hostesses are as lovely, as charming, as 
cultured and as hospitable to-day as ever they 
were ; our men as gallant and as fond of feminine 
society ; where then lurked the seeds of decay ? 

A successful salon depended upon the 
brilliancy of the conversation of those who 
frequented it ; a salon without wit would be as a 
pond without water, or a sky at night empty of 
stars. Conversation is a lost art. Talk we have 
in superabundance, also argument. But the light 
give and take, the prompt wit, the ready repartee, 
which form the mainstay of a conversation, are 
now all so rare that it would be impossible to 
gather together anything like a company of true 
masters and mistresses of conversation. The 
finest conversation to-day is heard among those 
who do not frequent the drawing-rooms of the 
leaders of fashion. Moreover, in those bygone 
days men of fashion were expected to be also 
men of wit and of culture ; now-a-days men are 
rated at cheque-value not at brain-value, more's 
the pity. D'Orsay would be hopelessly at sea in 
London society to-day, not on account of his 
morals, but because he would not be able to 

135 



136 D'Orsay 

contribute his share of unconsidered and plati- 
tudinous trifles at tea-fights, over-lengthy dinners 
and over-crowded dances. 

In the London of D'Orsay's prime the salon 
was still a power for pleasure, and he and Lady 
Blessington reigned over that which was perhaps 
the most brilliant that our country has ever seen. 
There were others. That at Holland House, for 
example, where Lady Holland reigned supreme 
and somewhat severe. To that select circle, from 
which he was now, alas, excluded, D'Orsay had 
been admitted when as a mere youth he first 
visited London. Dining there one day, he was 
honoured by a seat next his hostess, who ap- 
parently looked upon the young Frenchman as 
sure to be awe-stricken by her presence. She did 
not know her man. Time and again she allowed 
her napkin to slip down to the floor, on each 
occasion asking D'Orsay to recover it for her. 
This exercise at last exhausted his patience, and 
when the "accident" occurred again he startled 
her haughtiness by saying, u Ne ferais-je pas 
mieux, madame, de rnasseoir sous la table, afn de 
pouvoir vous passer la serviette plus rapidement ? " 

Lady Holland had been a wealthy Miss 
Vassall, and deserted her first husband, Sir 
Godfrey Webster, at the charming of Lord 
Holland. The latter has been described as " the 
last and the best of the Whigs of the old school," 
and was a man of highly cultivated mind, of 
genial hospitality, of wit, and a master of the art 
of conversation. Among the frequenters of the 
Holland House circle were Tom Moore, Macaulay, 



A London Salon 137 

Lord John Russell, to mention three men of very 
different character. D'Orsay, in what is per- 
chance a stray relic of that famous Journal of his, 
gives this picture of Lord Holland : — " It is im- 
possible to know Lord Holland without feeling 
for him a strong sentiment of affection ; he has 
so much goodness of heart, that one forgets often 
the superior qualities of mind which distinguish 
him ; and it is difficult to conceive that a man so 
simple, so natural and so good, should be one of 
the most distinguished senators of our days." 
Lady Holland had not shown her best self to 
D'Orsay ; she was a despot, but benevolent in the 
use of her power and full of the milk of human 
kindness. 

That D'Orsay was fully equipped to king it 
over a salon frequented by distinguished men is 
evident ; no less was Lady Blessington endowed 
with all the requisites to reign as queen. The 
gift of all gifts to a woman, beauty, was hers in 
a high degree. Willis thus describes her : — 

"Her person is full, but preserves all the fine- 
ness of an admirable shape ; her foot is not 
pressed in a satin slipper for which a Cinderella 
might long be sought in vain ; and her com- 
plexion (an unusually fair skin, with very dark 
hair and eyebrows) is of even a girlish delicacy 
and freshness. Her dress, of blue satin . . . was 
cut low, and folded across her bosom, in a way to 
show to advantage the round and sculpture-like 
curve and whiteness of a pair of exquisite 
shoulders, while her hair, dressed close to her 
head, and parted simply on her forehead with a 



138 D'Orsay 

rich ferronier of turquoise, enveloped in clear out- 
line a head with which it would be difficult to find 
a fault. Her features are regular, and her mouth, 
the most expressive of them, has a ripe fullness 
and freedom of play peculiar to the Irish 
physiognomy, and expressive of the most un- 
suspicious good-humour. Add to all this, a voice 
merry and sad by turns, but always musical, and 
manners of the most unpretending elegance, yet 
even more remarkable for their winning kindness, 
and you have the prominent traits of one of the 
most lovely and fascinating women I have ever 
seen." 

In these years her conversation was full of 
frank spontaneity ; a smile always hovered round 
her lips, and there was not mingled with her wit 
any spite of malice. She expressed herself with 
felicity, though not in any studied manner, and 
accompanied her words with expressive looks and 
gestures. Above all, she understood that con- 
versation is a game of give and take, "one don 
mot followed another, without pause or effort, for 
a minute or two, and then, while her wit and 
humour were producing their desired effect, she 
would take care, by an apt word or gesture, 
provocative of mirth and communicativeness, to 
draw out the persons who were best fitted to 
shine in company, and leave no intelligence, how- 
ever humble, without affording it an opportunity 
and encouragement to make some display, even 
in a single trite remark, a telling observation in 
the course of conversation." 

The evening at Seamore Place often began 



A London Salon 139 

with a dinner party ; some of these it will be 
pleasant for us to attend, in a proper spirit. 

Habitue's not only dined there, but when so 
disposed dropped in of an evening at almost any 
hour. Tom Moore records in his memoirs that 
he did so on 17th December 1833: — "Went to 
Lady Blessington's, having heard that she is at 
home most evenings. Found her gay rooms 
splendidly lighted up, and herself in a similar 
state of illumination, sitting 'alone in her glory,' 
reading. It was like the solitude of some princess 
confined in a fairy palace. After I had been a 
few minutes with her, however, D'Orsay made his 
appearance. Stayed about three-quarters of an 
hour conversing. ..." 

Then on 1 1 th August of the following year he 
" Dined at Lady Blessington's: company, D'Orsay 
(as master of the house), John Ponsonby, Willis 
the American, Count Pahlen (whom I saw a good 
deal of when he was formerly in London, and 
liked), Fonblanque, the editor of The Examiner, 
and a foreigner, whose name I forget. Sat next 
to Fonblanque, and was glad of the opportunity 
of knowing him. A clever fellow certainly, and 
with great powers occasionally as a writer. Got 
on very well together." 

That must have been a pleasant gathering : 
a witty hostess, a witty host, and several other 
wits, Fonblanque among them, of whom Lytton 
speaks enthusiastically to Lady Blessington : 
" What a combination to reconcile one to mankind, 
and such honour, such wisdom and such genius." 
Albany Fonblanque, as so many others have done, 



140 D'Orsay 

deserted law for journalism, achieving a high degree 
of success as editor of The Examiner. He was a 
master of sarcasm. Before Dickens set out on his 
first trip to America, in 1842, Fonblanque cuttingly 
said : " Why, aren't there disagreeable people 
enough to describe in Blackburn or Leeds ? " 

In the same year (1834) Benjamin Disraeli 
was one of a distinguished company entertained 
one night in May : — " On Monday I dined with 
Lady Blessington, the Prince of Moskowa, 
Charles Lafitte, Lords Castlereagh, Elphinstone, 
and Allen, Mr Talbot, myself. ..." Disraeli in 
his thirtieth year was a man after D'Orsay 's heart, 
a fellow dandy and a brother wit. But there 
was a difference in kind : Disraeli was an 
amateur, D'Orsay a professional ; to the former 
dandyism was a pose, of his life a thing apart, it 
was the latter's whole existence ; dandyism with 
Disraeli was part of a means to an end, with 
D'Orsay it was the end itself. The useful Willis 
gives a description of Disraeli at somewhere 
about this date, but Madden casts a doubt upon 
his accuracy. It was a strange scene, like pages 
torn from Vivian Grey, and from what we learn 
from other sources the " atmosphere " at any rate 
is correct and typical : — 

" Disraeli had arrived before me at Lady 
Blessington's," Willis writes, "and sat in the 
deep window, looking out upon Hyde Park, 
with the last rays of daylight reflected from the 
gorgeous gold flowers of an embroidered waist- 
coat. Patent leather pumps, a white stick, with 
a black cord and tassel, and a quantity of chains. 



A London Salon 141 

about his neck and pockets, served to make him, 
even in the dim light, rather a conspicuous object. 
Disraeli has one of the most remarkable faces I 
ever saw. He is lividly pale, and, but for the 
energy of his action and the strength of his 
lungs, would seem a victim to consumption. 
His eye is black as Erebus, and has the most 
mocking and lying - in - wait sort of expression 
conceivable. . . . His hair is as extraordinary 
as his taste in waistcoats. A thick heavy mass 
of jet-black ringlets falls over his left cheek 
almost to his collarless stock ; while on the 
right it is parted and put away with the smooth 
carefulness of a girl, and shines most unctuously, 

' With thy incomparable oil, Macassar.' 

Disraeli was the only one at table who knew 
Beckford, and the style in which he gave a 
sketch of his habits and manners was worthy of 
himself. I might as well attempt to gather up 
the foam of the sea, as to convey an idea of the 
extraordinary language in which he clothed his 
description. There were, at least, five words in 
every sentence that must have been very much 
astonished at the use they were put to, and yet 
no others apparently could so well have con- 
veyed his idea. He talked like a race-horse 
approaching the winning-post, every muscle in 
action, and the utmost energy of expression 
flung out in every burst. Victor Hugo and his 
extraordinary novels came next under discussion ; 
and Disraeli, who was fired with his own 
eloquence, started off apropos de bottes, with a 



142 D'Orsay 

long story of empalement he had seen in Upper 
Egypt. It was as good, and perhaps as 
authentic, as the description of the chow-chow- 
tow in Vivian Grey. The circumstantiality of 
the account was equally horrible and amusing. 
Then followed the sufferer's history, with a 
score of murders and barbarities heaped together 
like Martin's feast of Belshazzar, with a mixture 
of horror and splendour that was unparalleled in 
my experience of improvisation. No mystic 
priest of the Corybantes could have worked him- 
self up into a finer frenzy of language." 

Willis himself seems to have been bitten with 
this fine frenzy. 

Madden says that it was Disraeli's wont to 
be reserved and silent in company, but that 
when he was aroused "his command of lan- 
guage was truly wonderful, his power of sarcasm 
unsurpassed." 

Disraeli apparently met D'Orsay for the first 
time in February 1832, at a reunion at Bulwer's 
house, and he describes him as " the famous 
Parisian dandy." They quickly struck up a 
friendship. It is easy to understand what a 
fascinating study D'Orsay must have offered to 
Disraeli. We hear of the latter, a few months 
after his marriage, entertaining Lyndhurst, 
Bulwer, and D'Orsay. And in the spring of 
1835 there was a party at Lyndhurst's at 25 
George Street, at which Disraeli and d'Orsay 
were present. One of the company was wear- 
ing a waistcoat of splendour exceptional even for 
those splendid days. Said Disraeli as he entered 



A London Salon 143 

the room : " What a beautiful pattern ! Where 
did you find it ? " Then as the guests with one 
accord displayed their vests, the host exclaimed : 
" By the way, this brings to my mind a very 
curious suit I had about a waistcoat, in which I 
was counsel for a Jew, and won his case." And 
the story? It is lost! As hopelessly as the 
story of " Ould Grouse in the Gun-room." 

After dinner some of the party went on to the 
Opera to hear La Sonnambtila, that rickety old 
piece of fireworks ; in an opposite box sat Lady 
Blessington, " not very young, somewhat florid, but 
effectively arranged in a turban, a la Josephine." . 

Of the evening of 30th March 1835, Crabb 
Robinson notes : "At half-past seven went to 
Lady Blessington's, where I dined. The 
amusing man of the party was a young Irishman 
— Lover — a miniature painter and an author. 
He sang and accompanied himself, and told 
some Irish tales with admirable effect. . . . 
Among other guests were Chorley and the 
American Willis. Count d'Orsay, of course, did 
the honours. Did not leave till near one. ..." 

Lord Lyndhurst was a frequent visitor to 
Seamore Place. Henry Fothergill Chorley was 
well-known and respected in his day as a musical 
critic, as a novelist neither respected nor famous ; 
he was a close friend of D'Orsay. A rude 
journalist once spoke of " the Chorleys and the 
chawbacons of literature." An intimate friend 
describes him as " doing all sorts of good and 
generous deeds in a quiet, unostentatious way." 
Samuel Lover is best represented by his ballad 



144 D'Orsay 

of " Rory O'More," and Handy Andy still finds 
a few readers. 

William Archer Shee met Lover under some- 
what similar circumstances at another house : — 
"He is a man who shines much in a small 
circle. There is a brilliancy of thought, a general 
versatility of talent about him that makes his 
society very charming ... he is one of the best 
raconteurs that ever kept an audience in a roar. 
He told two Irish stories with the most racy 
humour." 

The Blessington of course often showed her- 
self at the Opera, which then as now was a 
fashionable lounge for musical and unmusical 
folk. Writing to the Countess Guiccioli in 
August 1833, she says : — " Our Opera has been 
brilliant, and offered a galaxy of talent, such 
as we never had before. Pasta, Malibran, 
Tamburini, Rubini, Donzelli, and a host of 
minor stars, with a corps de ballet, with Taglioni 
at their head, who more than redeemed their 
want of excellency. I did not miss a single 
night. . . ." 



XIV 

ROUND THE TOWN 

D'Orsay was able to be almost anything to any 
man, or any woman. He was highly accom- 
plished in every art of pleasing, and endowed 
with the ability not only to enjoy himself but to 
be the cause of enjoyment in others. He was 
popular undoubtedly, wonderfully so, and with a 
wide and varied range of men and women. But 
there were also many who despised him, looking 
askance at one who so openly defied the most 
sacred conventions of society, and who, in many 
ways, was accounted a mere adventurer. His 
money transactions with his friends will not bear 
scrutiny. Yet when all is said, he counted among 
the multitude of his friends and admirers such men 
as Bulwer, Landor, Lamartine, Dickens, Byron, 
Disraeli and Lyndhurst. John Forster warmed 
to him, and said that his "pleasantry, wit and 
kindliness gave him a wonderful fascination." 

What did life mean to D'Orsay ? Being a 
wise man he looked upon the world as a place of 
pleasant sojourning, of which it was the whole 
duty of man to make the very best. That there 
was, or might be, "another and a better world" 
was no sort of excuse for being miserable in this 
one. " Vive la joie!" was his motto, and he 
lived up to it gloriously. Life was meant to be 
lived ; money was made for spending ; credit was 

K 145 



146 D'Orsay 

a device for obtaining good things for which the 
obtainer had not any means or intention of 
paying. No one but a fool would lift the cup of 
pleasure to his lips and then set it down before 
he had drained it dry. D'Orsay looked upon the 
externals of a luxurious life, and found them very 
pleasant. The Spartans pointed out the drunken 
helot to their children, as a warning against 
tippling. So we may hold out to our young 
men the life of D'Orsay as an example of what 
they should all endeavour to be, and as a warn- 
ing against the sheer foolishness of taking life 
seriously. This is a degenerate age. 

Exceptional as he was in so many ways, 
D'Orsay was not unique. He had his doleful 
dumps and his hours of bitterness ; he was, after 
all, a great man, not a petty god. He plucked 
the roses of life so recklessly that he experienced 
the sharpness of the thorns, which must often 
have pierced deep. The conqueror as he tosses 
uneasily in his sleep is assailed by dreams that 
terrify. D'Orsay in his hours of greatest triumph 
must sometimes have asked what would be the 
end of his career ; when would come his Waterloo 
and St Helena? His thoughts must have some- 
times turned toward the young girl he had 
married so light-heartedly, whose fortune he had 
squandered, and whose life he had shadowed. 
Success has its hours of remorse. Life is a 
riddle ; but D'Orsay was not often so foolish as 
to bother his brains or break his heart over the 
solution of it ; let it solve itself as far as he was 
concerned. If to-morrow were destined to be 



Round the Town 147 

overcast let not that possible mischance darken 
the sunshine of to-day. Sufficient for the day are 
the pleasures thereof. 

There was not a pleasure or extravagance to 
which he did not indulge himself to the full ; 
wine, women and song were all at his command ; 
he sported with love, and gambled with fortunes. 
It was his ambition and his attainment to set the 
pace in all pursuits of folly. Did a dancer take 
the fancy of the town, D'Orsay must catch her 
fancy and be her lover, in gossipings always and 
when he so desired it in fact also. 

There is not much doubt that D'Orsay followed 
irreligiously the following directions for sowing 
wild oats and cultivating exotics : — 

" Rake discreetly beds of coryphSes — plant out 
chorus-singers in park villas and Montpelier 
cottages — refresh premieres danseuses with cham- 
pagne and chicken at the Star and Garter, Rich- 
mond, varied with cold punch and white-bait at 
the Crown and Sceptre, Blackwall — air prima 
donnas in new broughams up and down Rotten 
Row — carefully bind up rising actresses with 
diamond rings and pearl tiaras, from Hancock's 
— pot ballet-dancers in dog-carts — trail slips of 
columbines to box-seat in four-horse drag — 
support fairies running to seed by props from 
Fortnum & Mason's — leave to dry Apollos that 
have done blooming, and cut Don Giovannis that 
throw out too many suckers." 

Another famous tavern at Blackwall was Love- 
grove's " The Brunswick," where the white-bait 
was a famous dish. Of this excellent fish as 

\ 






148 D' Or say 

served there in 1850, Peter Cunningham says : — 
" The white-bait is a small fish caught in the 
River Thames, and long considered, but errone- 
ously, peculiar to this river ; in no other place, 
however, is it obtained in such perfection. The 
fish should be cooked within an hour after being 
caught, or they are apt to cling together. They 
are cooked in water in a pan, from which they 
are removed as required by a skimmer. They 
are then thrown on a stratum of flour, contained 
in a large napkin, until completely enveloped in 
flour. In this state they are placed in a cullender 
and all the superfluous flour removed by sifting. 
They are next thrown into hot melted lard, con- 
tained in a copper cauldron, or stew vessel, placed 
over a charcoal fire. A kind of ebullition im- 
mediately commences, and in about ten minutes 
they are removed by a fine skimmer, thrown into 
a cullender to drain, and then served up quite 
hot. At table they are flavoured with cayenne 
and lemon juice, and eaten with brown bread and 
butter ; iced punch being the favourite accom- 
panying beverage." A dish fit to place even 
before a premiere danseuse ! 

In the company of the wealthy he gambled as 
though he were one of themselves. Whence he 
obtained the money to pay his losses must re- 
main a mystery. At the Cocoa Tree he won 
.£35,000 in two nights off an unfortunate Mr 
Welsh. 

Of the many " hells " of those days Crock- 
ford's was the most famous and the most sumptu- 
ous ; there D'Orsay played for enormous stakes. 



Round the Town 149 

Bernal Osborne speaking through the mouth of 
Hyde Park Achilles, utters this : — 

" Patting the crest of his well-managed steed, 
Proud of his action, D'Orsay vaunts the breed ; 
A coat of chocolate, a vest of snow, 
Well brush'd his whiskers, as his boots below ; 
A short-napp'd beaver, prodigal in brim, 
With trousers tighten'd to a well-turn'd limb ; 
O'er play, o'er dress, extends his wide domain, 
And Crockford trembles when he calls a main." 

Crockford's " Palace of Fortune " — of mis- 
fortune to many — was in St James' Street, upon 
a site and in a building now partly occupied by 
the Devonshire Club. The house was designed 
by and built in 1827 under the direction of Sir 
Jeffrey Wayatville, or Wyatt, the transformer of 
Windsor Castle, and its proprietor was John 
Crockford, who it is reputed died worth some 
.£700,000 ; one authority indeed states that he 
made over ;£ 1,000, 000 in a few years out of 
his famous club. The place was "palatial"; a 
splendid vestibule and staircase ; a state drawing- 
room ; a state dining-room ; and — the play-room. 
The number of members was between 1000 and 
1200, the annual subscription being ^25 ; the 
number of candidates were out of all proportion 
to the vacancies. Supper was the great institu- 
tion, but as a matter of honour it was " no play, 
no supper " ; no payment was asked for, so 
members who did not desire to play in earnest 
would, after supper, throw a ^"10-note upon the 
play-table and leave it there. The cooking was 
of the finest, Ude being the chef ; the cellar 
admirable. 



150 DOrsay 

Of Ude, the following pleasing little tale is 
told :— 

Colonel Darner going into the club one even- 
ing met his highness the chef tearing up and 
down in a terrible passion. 

" What's the matter ? " asked Darner. 

"The matter, Monsieur le Colonel ! Did you 
see that man who has just gone out ? Well, he 
ordered a red mullet for his dinner. I made him 
a delicious little sauce with my own hands. The 
price of the mullet marked on the carte was two 
shillings ; I added sixpence for the sauce. He 
refuses to pay the sixpence. The imbecile appar- 
ently believes that the red mullets come out of 
the sea, with my sauce in their pockets ! " 

Major Chambre in his amusing Recollections 
of West-End Life, tells us that these free suppers 
"were on so grand a scale, and so excellent, that 
the Club became the refuge of all the undinnered 
members and gourmets, who flocked in after mid- 
night from White's, Brookes', and the Opera, to 
partake of the good cheer, and try their fortunes 
at the hazard-table afterwards. The wines were 
of first-rate quality, and champagne and hock of 
the best growths peeped out of ice-pails, to cool 
the agitated nerves of those who had lost their 
money. Some who had begun cautiously, and 
risked but little, by degrees acquired a taste for 
the excitement of play, and ended by staking 
large sums." 

During the Parliamentary Session, supper was 
served from twelve to five, and the fare was such 
as to satisfy the most refined gourmet, and the 



Round the Town 15 1 

most experienced " kernoozer." Crockford started 
the business of life by keeping a fish -stall hard 
by Temple Bar. 

"In the play- room might be heard the clear 
ringing voice of that agreeable reprobate, Tom 
Duncombe, as he cheerfully called ' Seven,' and 
the powerful hand of the vigorous Sefton in 
throwing for a ten. There might be noted the 
scientific dribbling of a four by ' King ' Allen, 
the tremendous backing of nines and fives by Ball 
Hughes and Auriol, the enormous stakes played 
for by Lords Lichfield and Chesterfield, George 
Payne, Sir St Vincent Cotton, D'Orsay, and 
George Anson, and, above all, the gentlemanly 
bearing and calm and unmoved demeanour, 
under losses or gains, of all the men of that 
generation." 

The English Spy speaks quite disrespect- 
fully of Crocky's : " We can sup in Crockford's 
pandemonium among parliamentary pigeons, un- 
fledged ensigns of the Guards, broken-down titled 
legs, and ci-devant bankers, fishmongers and 
lightermen. ..." Apparently unkindly wags 
spoke of the Club as " Fishmongers' Hall." 

" Seven's the main ! Eleven's a nick ! " 

It was the hazard of the die! Dice at 
£i> is. od. a pair cost the Club exchequer some 
^2000 per annum. 

The play-room was richly decorated and 
furnished, and the centre of attraction was an 
oval table covered with green baize. This board 
of green cloth was marked out in white lines, and 
at the corners, if there can be such to an oval, 



152 D'Orsay 

were inscribed the mystic words " In ' and " Out." 
In the centre was a space divided into squares in 
each of which was inscribed a number. At the 
middle of one side of the board stood two 
croupiers with a box before them containing the 
" bank" and with rakes in hand ready to gather 
in or to pay out as luck would have it. Crockford 
himself would be hovering around ; here is a 
sketch of him : — 

" A little in arrear of the players a tall and 
rather spare man stood, with a pale and strongly- 
marked face, light grey eyes, and frosted hair. 
His dress was common in the extreme, and his 
appearance generally might be denominated of 
that order. The only peculiarity, if, peculiarity it 
can be called, was a white cravat folded so thickly 
round his neck that there seemed to be quite a 
superfluity of cambric in that quarter. A smile — 
it might be of triumph, it might be of good- 
nature, of satisfaction, of benevolence, of good- 
will — no, it could not be either of these, save the 
former, and yet a smile was there . . . there he 
stood, turning a pleasant — it almost amounted to 
a benevolent look — upon the progress of the 
hazard, and at each countenance of the players." 

From the same vivacious work, a curious 
account of life about town by John Mills, we now 
extract an account of an imaginary gamble by 
D'Orsay, called herein the Marquis d'Horsay, and 
his friend Lord Chesterlane, otherwise the Earl of 
Chesterfield : — 

" Among the group, sitting and standing 
about the table, were the Marquis d'Horsay and 



Round the Town 153 

Lord Chesterlane. The former bore a discon- 
solate mood ; while the latter evinced thorough 
satisfaction and confidence in his thoughts, or 
want of them, for good-humour shone in his face, 
and he now and then snapped his fingers in very- 
good imitation of castanets, accompanied by a 
whistle both merry and loud. Large piles of red 
and white counters were before him, showing that 
Fortune had favoured his designs upon her 
benefits. 

"'You're in luck to-night, Tom,' observed 
the Marquis. 

" ' Yes,' replied his lordship, ■ I have the pull. 
But what are you doing ? ' 

11 ' Doing ! ' repeated the Marquis, • I'm done ; 
sown up ; drawn as fine as spun glass ; eased of 
all anxiety from having my pockets picked on my 
way home ; and entertain, as you may see, a 
lively satisfaction in the pleasant carelessness of 
my situation.' 

" ' By the nectar, honied look of the sweetest 
girl that ever pointed her glass to the omnibus 
box ! ' swore his lordship, ' your looks and tone 
carry poor conviction to the sincerity of the 
axiom. Help yourself,' continued he, pushing a 
heap of counters towards his friend, ' and stick it 
on thick. . . .' 

"In a heap — yes, in one uncounted, promis- 
cuous heap — the Marquis gathered the ivory 
checks on to the division in which the monosyllable 
• In ' was legible, and in a standing posture called 
' Five.' 

11 ' Five's the main,' cried one of the croupiers, 



154 D'Orsay 

looking with as much indifference at the dice as 
they were sent spinning across the table from the 
hand of the caster as if they had been a couple 
of marbles shot from the bent knuckle of a 
schoolboy. 

" ' A nick, by Love's sugar-candy kiss ! ' said 
the Earl. 

"In a trice the counters were examined by 
one of the attendants, and an addition made to 
their numbers in the sum gained. 

" With a flushed cheek and flashing eye the 
Marquis scraped the whole again upon the ' In ? ' ' 

Again the Marquis — that is to say D'Orsay 
— wins ; he wins again, and again ! Again — 
again — again ; never withdrawing his original 
stake or his winnings, but letting them lie there, 
growing and growing. Then — the bank was 
broken ! 

"'By my coach and 'osses!' exclaimed Sir 
Vincent Twist, a tall, well-made, strongly-marked, 
premature wrinkled, toothless — or, in the phraseo- 
logy of the ring, all the front rails gone — badly- 
dressed individual. ... ' By my coach and 
'osses ! Fishey's bank must be replenished ! ' " 

This frankly unveracious history from which 
we have quoted is doubtless as near to truthful- 
ness as many a ponderous volume based upon 
documentary evidence of undoubted authenticity 
— but that is not saying much. 

At Crockford's Lord Lamington, who wrote 
so understandingly of the dandies, will have met 
D'Orsay, with whom he was upon excellent terms : 
"Men did not slouch through life"; he writes, 



Round the Town 155 

u and it was remarkable how highly they were 
appreciated by the crowd, not only of the upper 
but of the lower classes. I have frequently ridden 
down to Richmond with Count d'Orsay. A strik- 
ing figure he was in his blue coat with gilt buttons, 
thrown well back to show the wide expanse of 
snowy shirt-front and buff waistcoat ; his tight 
leathers and polished boots ; his well-curled 
whiskers and handsome countenance ; a wide- 
brimmed, glossy hat, spotless white gloves." 

Doubtless it was to the famous old Star and 
Garter that they rode down, the scene of many 
a high jink and of much merriment by night. A 
famous house with a history dating back to the 
dim age of the year 1738. A very unpretentious 
place at first, it was rebuilt upon a fairly fine 
scale in 1780, but did not prosper. It was a 
certain Christopher Crean, ex-chef to his Royal 
Highness the Duke of York, and after him his 
widow, who brought good luck to the house. In 
D'Orsay 's days it was owned by a Mr Joseph 
Ellis. The old building vanished in flames in 
1870. 

It must have been a delightful place at which 
to dine and spend the evening in those far-away 
D'Orsay days, and very pleasant the ride or drive 
down there through the country now covered with 
suburbia. Dukes and dandies, pretty women of 
some repute and of no repute, bright young 
bucks and hoary-headed old stagers, hawks and 
pigeons, the crime de la Boheme, all the world 
and other people's wives, would be there ; 
immense the popping of corks from bottles of 



156 D'Orsay 

champagne and claret and burgundy — the 
monarch of wines. Uproarious the joviality ! 
They were gay dogs in those gay days ! 

Though, speaking of a somewhat later date, 
Serjeant Ballantine's account of the place may 
be quoted : — 

" Many also were the pleasant parties at the 
Star and Garter at Richmond, not then the great 
ugly staring barrack of a place that occupies 
the site where Mr Ellis, the picture of a host, 
used to receive the guests. The old house was 
burnt down. In itself it had not much pretension, 
but the garden behind was a perfect picture of 
loveliness ; the small garden-rooms, with honey- 
suckles, jasmine and roses twining themselves up 
the sides, with a lovely sweep of lawn, on which 
were scattered trees that had flourished there for 
many a long day, affording shade as well as 
beauty ; one magnificent spreading beech, itself a 
sight, and an avenue of limes forming the prettiest 
of walks at the bottom of the garden." 

The view was of better quality than the viands. 

There was not a fashionable haunt of virtue 
or of vice in which D'Orsay was not quite at 
home. There was not any fashionable folly or 
accomplishment in which he was unskilled ; a 
complete man-about-town, gambler, rake and 
dandy. We need not pursue him in all his 
pastimes ; dead and gone revelries cannot be 
resurrected with any satisfaction ; they smell 
musty. Let them lie. 



XV 

GORE HOUSE 

Early in 1836 Lady Blessington moved from 
Mayfair out to Kensington, or — as it then prac- 
tically was — from the centre of the town to a 
suburb, from Seamore Place to Gore House, 
which in Grantley Berkeley's blunt phrase became 
" the headquarters of the demi-monde, with the 
Countess of Blessington as their queen." She 
wrote to Landor, describing her change of home, 
that she had "taken up her residence in the 
country, being a mile from London." 

The house stood close down to the roadway, 
occupying part of the site upon which now stands 
the Albert Hall — why not named after Alfred, 
Count d'Orsay? It was secluded from the traffic 
by a high wall and a sparse row of trees, two 
large double gates surmounted by old-fashioned 
lanterns giving access to the short drive. The 
building was low and quite common-place, 
painted white, its only external claim to charm 
being the beautiful gardens at the back. William 
Wilberforce, a previous tenant, writes : — 

"We are just one mile from the turnpike at 
Hyde Park Corner, having about three acres of 
pleasure-ground around our house, or rather 
behind it, and several old trees, walnut and 
mulberry, of thick foliage. I can sit and read 
under their shade with as much admiration of the 

157 



158 D'Orsay 

beauties of Nature as if I were down in Yorkshire, 
or anywhere else 200 miles from the great city." 

Under those shady trees far other folk now 
sat, and we doubt not their meditations were of 
the town rather than of the beauties of Nature. 
Of such an assemblage D'Orsay painted a picture, 
which to a certain extent gives the keynote to 
the history of Gore House for the next fourteen 
years. It is a view of the garden side of the 
house and among those portrayed in the groups 
that occupy the foreground are in addition to 
D'Orsay and Lady Blessington, the Duke of Wel- 
lington and his son, Lord Douro, of which latter 
Greville says : " Une lune bien pale aupres de son 
pere, but far from a dull man, and not deficient in 
information " ; Sir Edwin Landseer, sketching a 
cow, Lord Chesterfield, Lord Brougham, and Lady 
Blessington's fair nieces, the two Misses Power. 

Of course D'Orsay also moved out to 
Kensington, at first living next door to Gore 
House at No. 4 Kensington Gore. 

Bulwer writing to Lord Durham on many 
matters, notes the move from Seamore Place : — 

" Lady Blessington has moved into Wilber- 
force's old house at Knightsbridge. . . . She has 
got Gore House for ten years. It cost her 
a thousand pounds in repairs, about another 
thousand in new furniture, entails two gardeners, 
two cows, and another housemaid ; but she 
declares with the gravest of all possible faces 
she only does it for — economy ! D'Orsay is 
installed in a cottage or?i£ next door, and has 
set up an aviary of the best-dressed birds in all 



Gore House 159 

Ornithology. He could not turn naturalist in 

anything else but Dandies. The very pigeons 

have trousers down to their claws and have the 

habit of looking over their left shoulder," of 

course to see that no evil-minded man-of-law 

was approaching with a writ. 

Afterward, doubtless realising that any further 

pretence at propriety was mere waste of energy 

and money, he lived in Gore House itself, in the 

Grounds of which he erected his studio. Charles 
© 

Greville, who so often dipped his pen in gall, 
speaking of D'Orsay's art work, declares that he 
"constantly got helped, and his works retouched 
by eminent artists, whose society he cultivated, 
and many of whom were his intimate friends." 
Yet we find Benjamin Robert Haydon recording 
on 10th July 1839, while he was painting his 
portrait of Wellington : — 

" D'Orsay called, and pointed out several 
things to correct in the horse. ... I did them, 
and he took my brush in his dandy gloves, which 
made my heart ache, and lowered his hind- 
quarters by bringing over a bit of the sky. Such 
a dress ! white great-coat, blue satin cravat, hair 
oiled and curling, hat of the primest curve and 
purest water, gloves scented with eau de Cologne, 
or eati de jasmin, primrose in tint, skin in tight- 
ness. In this prime of dandyism he took up 
a nasty, oily, dirty hog-tool, and immortalised 
Copenhagen by touching the sky. I thought, 
after he was gone, this won't do — a Frenchman 
touch Copenhagen ! So out I rubbed all he had 
touched, and modified his hints myself." 



160 D'Orsay 

So strange that Hay don should not have 
recognised that the touch of the dandy's handi- 
work would immortalise the picture! There are 
many historical painters, but only a few great 
dandies. So little do great men appreciate 
greater men ! D'Orsay was from now onward 
to the day of his fall at the top of his fame. 

At Gore House the salon presided over by 
D'Orsay and Lady Blessington was even more 
brilliant than that at Seamore Place, though time 
was beginning to play his unkindly tricks at the 
lady's expense, and debt was dogging the foot- 
steps of the gentleman. 

Of the former William Archer Shee gives a 
description too glowing to be true : — 

" Gore House last night was unusually 
brilliant. Lady Blessington has the art of 
collecting around her all that is best worth 
knowing in the male society of London. There 
were Cabinet Ministers, diplomats, poets, painters, 
and politicians, all assembled together. . . . She 
has the peculiar and most unusual talent of 
keeping the conversation in a numerous circle 
general, and of preventing her guests from 
dividing into little selfish pelotons. With a tact 
unsurpassed, she contrives to draw out even the 
most modest tyro from his shell of reserve, and, 
by appearing to take an interest in his opinion, 
gives him the courage to express it. All her 
visitors seem, by some hidden influence, to find 
their level, yet they leave her house satisfied 
with themselves." 

But Madden, who was more intimate with her 



Gore House 161 

than perhaps anyone else save D'Orsay, gives us 
a peep behind the mask of gaiety. He declares 
that there was no real happiness in those Gore 
House days ; the skeletons in their cupboards 
were rattling their bones. Lady Blessington's 
merriment had no longer the sparkle of genuine 
vivacity, was no longer unforced. Cares and 
troubles grew upon her ; her " conversation 
generally was no longer of that gay, enlivening, 
cheerful character, abounding in drollery and 
humour, which made the great charm of her 
reunions in the Villa Belvedere, and in a minor 
degree in Seamore Place." 

This is supported by Bulwer in a letter to 
Albany Fonblanque in September 1837 : " I had 
a melancholyish letter from Lady Blessington 
the other day. It always seems to me as if 
D'Orsay 's blague was too much for her. People 
who live with those too high-spirited for them 
always appear to me to get the life sucked 
out of them. The sun drinks up the dews." 
So does the passage of years. Lady Bles- 
sinaton was now fading. The background 
of her life had grown grey ; the passage 
of years was impairing her beauty ; money 
matters troubled her sorely, and it cannot have 
added to the joy of life to know that her love 
and her charms no longer satisfied all the 
requirements of her lover. Banishment from 
the society of almost every respectable woman 
must also have grated upon her who was born 
to reign over society. 

As for D'Orsay, his existence was one per- 

L 



162 D'Orsay 

petual gallop after pleasure and to escape the 
clutches of duns and their myrmidons. As far 
back as his arrival in England he had been 
arrested on account of a debt of a mere ^"300 to 
his Paris bootmaker, M' Henry, who, however, 
did not enforce imprisonment, but allowed the bill 
to run on for several years. The mere fact of 
D'Orsay being his patron brought him the custom 
of all the exquisites of Paris. 

It was a magnificent misery for " the gorgeous " 
Lady Blessington ; but D'Orsay possessed a heart 
and spirit above trifles ; the conqueror of to-day 
does not discount his present pleasure by any fore- 
boding of defeat to-morrow. D'Orsay had con- 
quered London society, almost all the male members 
of it and not a few of its female ; with his wit 
and his good looks he could gain for love what 
only money could obtain for less favoured rivals. 

Of the fair, frail ones who were to be met 
with at Gore House one of the most distinguished, 
if not for good looks, at any rate for the good 
fortune of having had a famous lover, was the 
Countess Guiccioli. Shee met her there in the 
spring of 1837, and was sorely disappointed. 
He considered her a "fubsy woman," without 
youth, beauty or grace ; short, thick-set, lacking 
in style : " She sang several Italian airs to her 
own accompaniment, in a very pretentious manner, 
and her voice is loud and somewhat harsh." It 
is told of her that once at a great house, when 
all were alert to hear the song to which she was 
playing the introduction, she suddenly clasped 
her — waist, exclaiming — 



Gore House 163 

" Good Lord ! I've over-eaten myself! " 

Lady Blessington gives a kindlier portrait : 
"Her face is decidedly handsome, the features 
regular and well proportioned, her complexion 
delicately fair, her teeth very fine, and her hair of 
that rich golden tint, which is peculiar to the female 
pictures by Titian and Giorgione. Her countenance 
is very pleasing ; its general character is pensive, 
but it can be lit up with animation and gaiety, 
when its expression is very agreeable. Her bust 
and arms are exquisitely beautiful. ..." 

Leigh Hunt tells us that she possessed the 
handsomest nose he had ever seen. 

Opinions differ about beauties as about other 
matters, so it will not hurt to hear what Henry 
Reeve has to say : — 

''October 15th (1839). — I have been a good 
deal at Gore House lately, attracted and amused 
by Mme. de Guiccioli, who is staying with my 
lady. Having recently made the acquaintance 
of Lady Byron, it is very curious to me to 
compare the manners and character of her 
celebrated rival. The Guiccioli is still exceed- 
ingly beautiful. She has sunbeams of hair, a 
fine person, and a milky complexion. Her spirits 
are wonderful, and her conversation brilliant even 
in the most witty house in London. Besides 
which, she alone of all Italian women knows 
some things. Besides a fine taste, which belongs 
to them by nature, she has a good share of literary 
attainments, which, as her beauty fails, will smooth 
a track from coquetry to pedantry, from the 
courted beauty to the courted blue." 



164 D'Orsay 

She and D'Orsay were very good friends ; 
there are constant messages to her from him in 
Lady Blessington's letters: — "Count d'Orsay 
charges me with the kindest regards for you ; 
we often think and talk of the pleasant hours 
passed in your society at Anglesey, when your 
charming voice and agreeable conversation, gave 
wings to them." And : " Comte d'Orsay charges 
me with mille choses aimables to you ; you have, 
malgrd all discussions, secured a very warm and 
sincere friend in him." And, writing from Gore 
House on 15th August 1839: "Your friend 
Alfred charges me with his kindest regards to 
you. He is now an inmate at Gore House, 
having sold his own residence ; and this is not 
only a great protection but a great addition to 
my comfort." A quite pleasantly frank con- 
fession to the mistress of a great poet from the 
mistress of a great dandy. But there have been 
greater poets than Byron, not any greater dandy 
than D'Orsay, so the Blessington was the prouder 
woman of the two. 

The following, written in January 1845, must 
be quoted in full, and read with the remembrance 
to the fore that Lady Blessington posed in con- 
versation and in print as having been on terms 
of intimate friendship with Byron. "... You 
have, I daresay, heard that your friend Count 
d'Orsay has within the last two years taken 
to painting, and such has been the rapidity of his 
progress, that he has left many competitors, who 
have been for fifteen years painters, far behind. 
" Dissatisfied with all the portraits that have 






<?T ^=?- ; 




/ 



The Countess Guiccioli 

(£>' D'Orsay) 



[to face page 16+ 



Gore House 165 

been painted of Lord Byron, none of which 
render justice to the intellectual beauty of his 
noble head, Count d'Orsay, at my request, has 
made a portrait of our great poet, and it has been 
pronounced by Sir John Cam Hobhouse, and 
all who remember Lord Byron, to be the best 
likeness of him ever painted ! The picture 
possesses all the noble intelligence and fine 
character of the poet's face, and will, I am sure, 
delight you when you see it. We have had it 
engraved, and when the plate is finished, a print 
will be sent to you. It will be interesting, ckh-e 
et aimable atnie, to have a portrait of our great 
poet, from a painting by one who so truly esteems 
you : for you have not a truer friend than Count 
d'Orsay, unless it be me. How I wish you were 
here to see the picture ! It is an age since we 
met, and I assure you we all feel this long separa- 
tion as a great privation. I shall be greatly 
disappointed if you are not as delighted with the 
engraving as I am, for to me it seems the very 
image of Byron." 

"Our great poet" would have torn the hair 
of his noble head if he had read this quaint pro- 
duction. La Guiccioli did approve the engraving 
to the contentment of the artist. 

Shee tells us that the Countess on her visits 
to Gore House was overwhelmed by her more 
showy hostess, and by her sister, the Countess 
Saint Marceau, the latter forming a fine foil to 
the more exuberant Lady Blessington, being 
slight, short, small-featured, but extremely pretty 
and piquant, and, as Madden tells us, "always 



166 D'Orsay 

courted and complimented in society, and 
coquetted with by gentlemen of a certain age, by 
humourists in single blessedness, especially like 
Gell, and by old married bachelors like Landor." 

Landor visited Lady Blessington in 1837 ; 
he writes to Forster : "I shall be at Gore House 
on Monday, pray come in the evening. I told 
Lady Blessington I should not let any of her 
court stand at all in my way. When I am tired 
of them, I leave them." 

It is very strong proof of the fascination 
exercised by D'Orsay that such men as Landor, 
Carlyle and Forster, each one of whom we would 
think impervious to his charms, should have 
succumbed to them. 

Landor's enslavement by Lady Blessington 
or her sister is understandable, but what 
attracted him in D'Orsay ? Chorley gives us a 
glimpse of Landor dining at Gore House when 
its master was absent: "Yesterday evening, I 
had a very rare treat — a dinner at Kensington 
tete-a-tite with Lady Blessington and Mr 
Landor ; she talked her best, brilliant and kindly, 
and without that touch of self-consciousness 
which she sometimes displays when worked up to 
it by flatterers and gay companions. Landor, 
as usual, the very finest man's head I have ever 
seen, and with all his Johnsonian disposition to 
tyrannise and lay down the law in his talk, 
restrained and refined by an old-world courtesy 
and deference to his bright hostess, for which 
chivalry is the only right word." 

Landor conceived quite an affection for 



Gore House 167 

D'Orsay ; perhaps at heart they both were dandies ? 
Here is a pleasant bit of chaff from Landor, 
written to Lady Blessington : "By living at 
Clifton, I am grown as rich as Rothschild ; and 
if Count d'Orsay could see me in my new coat, 
he would not write me so pressingly to come up 
to London. It would breed ill-blood between us — 
half plague, half cholera. He would say — ' I wish 
the fellow had his red forehead again — the deuce 
might powder it for me.' However, as I go out 
very little, I shall not divide the world with him." 

Once when Landor was dining at Gore House, 
his attire had become slightly disordered, to which 
fact D'Orsay smilingly drew attention as they rose 
to join the ladies. " My dear Count d'Orsay," ex- 
claimed Landor, " I thank you! My dear Count 
d'Orsay I thank you from my soul for pointing out 
to me the abominable condition to which I am 
reduced ! If I had entered the drawing-room, and 
presented myself before Lady Blessington in so 
absurd a light, I would have instantly gone home, 
put a pistol to my head, and blown my brains out ! " 

In January 1840, Henry Reeve was at dinner 
at Gore House, and gives a capital account of the 
fun there : — 

" Our dinner last night was very good fun, 
but we made rather too many puns. Landor 
rode several fine paradoxes with savage impetu- 
osity : particularly his theory that the Chinese 
are the only civilised people in the world. I am 
sure the Ching dynasty has not a firmer adherent 
than Landor within its own imperial capital. 
Landor, you know, is quite as vain of not being 



168 D'Orsay 

read, as Bulwer is of being the most popular 
writer of the day. Nothing can equal the 
contempt with which he treats anybody who has 
more than six readers and three admirers unless 
it be that saying of Hegel's, when he declared 
that nobody understood his writings but himself, 
and that not always. Lady B(lessington) said 
the finest thing of Carlyle's productions that ever 
was uttered ; she called them ' spangled fustian.' ' 

Forster and D'Orsay got on very well together, 
which was perhaps due to the almost if not quite 
exaggerated respect paid by the former to the 
latter. He was heard above the roar of talk at 
one of his dinners, absolutely shouting to his man 
Henry : " Good heavens, sir, butter for the 
Count's flounders ! " D'Orsay contrived to 
misunderstand him very nicely on an occasion. 
Forster when expecting a visit from the Count 
was urgently summoned to his printers. He 
gave his servant strict injunction to tell the 
Count, should he call before his return, that he 
had just gone round to Messrs Spottiswoode. 
He missed his visitor entirely, and his explanation 
when next he met him was cut short by — " Ah ! I 
know, you had just gone round to Ze Spotted 
Dog — I understand." 

In 1835 Lady Blessington writes to Forster 
from Gore House : 

"It has given me the greatest pleasure to 
hear that you are so much better. Count 
d'Orsay assures me that the improvement is 
most satisfactory. To-morrow will be the 
anniversary of his birthday, and a few friends 



Gore House 169 

will meet to celebrate it. How I wish you were 
to be among the number." Ten years later, 
when Forster again was on the sick-list, she 
writes : " If you knew the anxiety we all feel about 
your health, and the fervent prayers we offer up 
for its speedy restoration, you would be con- 
vinced, that though you have friends of longer 
date, you have none more affectionately and 
sincerely attached to you than those at Gore 
House. I claim the privilege of an old woman to 
be allowed to see you as soon as a visitor in a 
sick-room can be admitted. Sterne says that ' A 
friend has the same right as a physician,' and I 
hope you will remember this. Count d'Orsay 
every day regrets that he cannot go and nurse 
you, and we both often wish you were here, that 
we might try our power of alleviating your illness, 
if not of curing you. God bless you, and restore 
you speedily to health." 

Macready turns up, if we may use words so 
flippant of a man so serious, at Gore House in 
1837. "Reached Lady Blessington's about a 
quarter before eight," he writes. " Found there 
Fonblanque, Bulwer, Trelawney, Procter, Auldjo, 
Forster, Lord Canterbury, Fred Reynolds and 
Mr and Mrs Fairlie, Kenney, a young Manners 
Sutton, Count d'Orsay and some unknown. I passed 
an agreeable day, and had a long and interesting 
conversation in the drawing-room (what an elegant 
and splendid room it is!) with D'Orsay on pictures." 

Of the members of the party that Macready 
found himself amongst — Lord Canterbury, when 
he was the Right Honourable Charles Manners 



170 D'Orsay 

Sutton and Speaker of the House of Commons, 
had married in 1828 Lady Blessington's sister 
Ellen, of whom Moore speaks as " Mrs Speaker " : 
' ' Amused to see her, in all her state, the same 
hearty, lively Irishwoman still." She had first 
been married to a Mr Purves. Mrs Fairlie was 
Mrs Purves' eldest daughter, Louisa, who while 
quite young had married Mr John Fairlie. 
Trelawney was the "Younger Son," whose 
"Adventures" are so entertaining and exciting, 
the intimate of Shelley and Byron, and the model 
for the old sea captain of Millais' " North-West 
Passage." Procter was " Barry Cornwall " ; John 
Auldjo had been introduced to Lady Blessington 
by Gell in 1834; Frederick Mansell Reynolds 
was a minor poet and writer of tales, a letter from 
whom shows D'Orsay in a pleasant light. It is 
written from Jersey in 1837 — 

" My Dear Lady Blessington, — After having 
so recently seen you, and being so powerfully 
and so painfully under the influence of a desire 
never again to place the sea between me and 
yourself and circle, I feel almost provoked to find 
how much this place suits me in every physical 
respect. . . . You and Count d'Orsay speak 
kindly and cheerfully to me ; but I am un malade 
imaginaire, for I do not fear death ; on the 
contrary, I rather look to it as my only hope of 
secure and lasting tranquillity. In the lull which 
has hitherto accompanied my return to this 
delicious climate, I have had time and oppor- 
tunity for ample retrospection, and I find that we 



Gore House 17 J 

have both * laid in a stock of regard for Count 
d'Orsay which is immeasurable : anybody so 
good-natured and so kind-hearted I never before 
saw ; it seems to me that it should be considered 
an inestimable privilege to live in his society. 
When you write to me, pray be good enough to 
acquaint me whether you have been told verbatim 
what a lady said on the subject ; for praise so 
natural, hearty and agreeable was never before 
uttered in a soliloquy, which her speech really 
was, though I was present at the time. 

" At the risk of repeating, I really must tell it 
to you. After Count d'Orsay 's departure from our 
house, there was a pause, when it was broken, by her 
exclaiming, ' What a very nice man ! ' I assented 
in my own mind, but I was pursuing also a chain 
of thought of my own, and I made no audible 
reply. Our ruminations then proceeded, when 
mine were once more interrupted by her saying : 
' In fact, he is the nicest man I ever saw. 1 

"This is a pleasant avowal to me, I thought ; 
but still I could not refrain from admitting that 
she was right. Then again, for a third time, the 
mental machinery of both went to work in silence, 
until that of the lady reached a ne plus ultra of 
admiration, and she ejaculated in an ecstasy : 'In- 
deed, he is the nicest man that can possibly be ! '" * 

The Kenney mentioned by Macready must 
have been James, who as the author of Raising 
the Wind, and of Sweethearts and Wives, was a 
singularly appropriate friend for the impecunious, 
amorous D'Orsay. 

* Referring to his devoted wife. 



XVI 

Stars 

Lady Blessington reported that in June 1838, 
London was ''insupportable. The streets and 
the Park crowded to suffocation, and all the 
people gone mad " ; but in the same month Dizzy 
writes in a different key : " We had a very 
agreeable party at D'Orsay's yesterday. Zichy, 
who has cut out even Esterhazy, having two 
jackets ; one of diamonds more brilliant than 
E's., and another which he wore at the drawing- 
room yesterday of turquoises. This makes the 
greatest sensation of the two. . . . Then there 
was the Duke of Ossuna, a young man, but a 
grandee of the highest grade. . . . He is a 
great dandy and looks like Philip II., but though 
the only living descendant of the Borgias, he has 
the reputation of being very amiable. When he 
was last at Paris he attended a representation of 
Victor Hugo's Lucrezia Borgia. She says in 
one of the scenes : ' Great crimes are in our 
blood.' All his friends looked at him with an 
expression of fear ; ' But the blood has degener- 
ated,' he said, 'for I have committed only 
weaknesses.' Then there was the real Prince 
Poniatowsky, also young and with a most brilliant 
star. Then came Kissiloffs and Strogonoffs, 

'and other offs and ons,' and de Belancour, a 

172 



Stars 173 

very agreeable person. Lyndhurst, Gardner, 
Bulwer and myself completed the party." 

D'Ossuna died while quite a young man and 
was succeeded by his brother, also a friend of 
D'Orsay. 

This must have been a curiously polyglot 
gathering, and the noble company of dandies was 
brilliantly represented by D'Orsay, Bulwer and 
Dizzy, not to mention Zichy of the turquoise 
jacket. 



XVII 

COMPANY 

There is both amusement and interest in the 
record of the year 1839, during which all pretence 
at a separate establishment was cast aside, and 
the D'Orsay-Blessington alliance was publicly 
acknowledged by the gentleman taking up his 
residence in the lady's house. 

D'Orsay went down this year to Bradenham, 
on a visit to the Disraelis. 

It is not uninteresting to know that Braden- 
ham and Hurstley in Endymion are one and the 
same place, and thus described : — 

" At the foot of the Berkshire downs, and itself 
on a gentle elevation, there is an old hall with 
gable ends and lattice windows, standing in 
grounds which once were stately, and where there 
are yet glade-like terraces of yew-trees, which 
give an air of dignity to a neglected scene. In 
the front of the hall huge gates of iron, highly 
wrought, and bearing an ancient date as well as 
the shield of a noble house, opened on a village 
green, round which were clustered the cottages of 
the parish, with only one exception, and that was 
the vicarage house, a modern building, not with- 
out taste, and surrounded by a small but brilliant 
garden. The church was contiguous to the hall, 
and had been raised by the lord on a portion of 
his domain. Behind the hall and its enclosure 
the country was common land but picturesque. 

174 



Company 175 

It had once been a beech forest, and though the 
timber had been greatly cleared, the green land 
was occasionally dotted, sometimes with groups 
and sometimes with single trees, while the juniper 
which here abounded, and rose to a great height, 
gave a rich wildness to the scene, and sustained 
its forest character." It is easy to fit the author 
of the Curiosities of Literature into this frame- 
work, but in this old-world hall two such gorgeous 
butterflies as D'Orsay and the writer of Vivian 
Grey seem rather astray. It would be almost as 
startling to find a dog-rose climbing up a lamp- 
post in Pall Mall, or honeysuckle adorning the 
front of the Thatched House. 

Disraeli writes to Lady Blessington : — 

"We send you back our dearest D'Orsay, with 
some of the booty of yesterday's sport as our 
homage to you. His visit has been very short, 
but very charming, and everybody here loves 
him as much as you and I do. I hope that I shall 
soon see you, and see you well ; and in the mean- 
time, I am, as I shall ever be, your affectionate — " 

Concerning an earlier occasion, Disraeli writes 
from Bradenham on 5th August 1834, to Lady 
Blessington : — 

" I suppose it is vain to hope to see my dear 
D'Orsay here ; I wish indeed he would come. 
Here is a wish by no means contemptible. He 
can bring his horses if he likes, but I can mount 
him. Adieu, dear Lady Blessington, some day I 
will try to write you a more amusing letter ; at 
present I am in truth ill and sad." 

Charles Greville was at Gore House on 17th 



176 D'Orsay 

February, and seems to have enjoyed himself 
pretty well : — 

"February 17th. — I dined at Lady Blessing- 
ton's yesterday, to meet Durham and Brougham ; 
but, after all, the latter did not come, and the 
excuse he made was, that it was better not ; and 
as he was taking, or going to take (we shall see) 
a moderate course about Canada, it would impair 
his efficacy if the press were to trumpet forth, and 
comment on, his meeting with Durham. There 
was that sort of strange omnium gatherum party 
which is to be met with nowhere else, and which 
for that reason alone is curious. We had Prince 
Louis Napoleon and his A.D.C.* He is a short, 
thickish, vulgar-looking man, without the slightest 
resemblance to his imperial uncle, or any intelli- 
gence in his countenance. Then we had the ex- 
Governor of Canada, Captain Marriott, the Count 
Alfred de Vigny (author of Cinq Mars, etc.), 
Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer, and a proper 
sprinkling of ordinary persons to mix up with 
these celebrities. In the evening, Forster, sub- 
editor of the Examiner \ Chorley, editor of the 
Athenezum ; Macready and Charles Buller. Lady 
Blessington's existence is a curiosity, and her 
house and society have at least the merit of being 
singular, though the latter is not so agreeable as 
from its composition it ought to be. There is no 
end to the men of consequence and distinction in 
the world who go there occasionally — Brougham, 

* The first mention of His Imperial Majesty Napoleon III., 
who was an habitue of Gore House, and well known to all who 
frequented it. The A.D.C. was M. de Persigny, who accompanied 
the Prince everywhere. — {Note in Greville.] 




Edward, First Baron Lytton 
{From a Fainting h- A. E. Chalon, R.A.) 



[TO FACE I'AGE 176 



Company 177 

Lyndhurst, Abinger, Canterbury, Durham, and 
many others ; all the minor poets, literati, and 
journalists, without exception, together with some 
of the highest pretensions. Moore is a sort of 
friend of hers ; she had been very intimate with 
Byron, and is with Walter Savage Landor. Her 
house is furnished with a luxury and splendour 
not to be surpassed ; her dinners are frequent and 
good ; and D'Orsay does the honours with a 
frankness and cordiality which are very success- 
ful ; but all this does not make society, in the real 
meaning of the term. There is a vast deal of 
coming and going, and eating and drinking, and 
a corresponding amount of noise, but little or no 
conversation, discussion, easy quiet interchange 
of ideas and opinions, no regular social foundation 
of men of intellectual or literary calibre ensuring 
a perennial flow of conversation, and which, if it 
existed, would derive strength and assistance from 
the light superstructure of occasional visitors, with 
the much or the little they might individually 
contribute. The reason of this is that the woman 
herself, who must give the tone to her own 
society, and influence its character, is ignorant, 
vulgar, and commonplace.* Nothing can be more 

* Lady Blessington had a good deal more talent and reading 
than Mr Greville gives her credit for. Several years of her agitated 
life were spent in the country in complete retirement, where she 
had no resources to fall back upon but a good library. She was 
well read in the best English authors, and even in translations of 
the Classics ; but the talent to which she owed her success in society 
was her incomparable tact and skill in drawing out the best 
qualities of her guests. What Mr Greville terms her vulgarity might 
be more charitably described as her Irish cordiality and bonliomie. 
I have no doubt that her Conversations with Lord Byron were 
entirely written by herself. — [Note in Greville.'] 

M 



178 DOrsay 

dull and uninteresting than her conversation, 
which is never enriched by a particle of know- 
ledge, or enlivened by a ray of genius or imagina- 
tion. The fact of her existence as an authoress 
is an enigma, poor as her pretensions are ; for 
while it is very difficult to write good books, it is 
not easy to compose even bad ones, and volumes 
have come forth under her name for which 
hundreds of pounds have been paid, because 
(Heaven only can tell how) thousands are found 
who will read them. Her ' Works ' have been 
published in America, in one huge folio, where it 
seems they meet with peculiar success ; and this 
trash goes down, because it is written by a 
Countess, in a country where rank is eschewed, 
and equality is the universal passion. They have 
(or some of them) been likewise translated into 
German ; and if all this is not proof of literary 
merit, or at least of success, what is? It would 
be not uninteresting to trace this current of 
success to its source, and to lay bare all the 
springs of the machinery which sustains her 
artificial character as an authoress. The details 
of course form the mystery of her craft, but the 
general causes are apparent enough. First and 
foremost, her magnificent house and luxurious 
dinners ; then the alliance offensive and defensive 
which she has contrived (principally through the 
means of said house and dinners) to establish 
with a host of authors, booksellers, and publishers, 
and above all with journalists. The first lend 
her their assistance in composition, correction, or 
addition ; with the second she manages to estab- 



Company 179 

lish an interest and an interchange of services ; 
and the last everlastingly puff her performances. 
Her name is eternally before the public ; she 
produces those gorgeous inanities, called Books of 
Beauty, and other trashy things of the same 
description, to get up which all the fashion and 
beauty, the taste and talent, of London are laid 
under contribution. The most distinguished 
artists and the best engravers supply the portraits 
of the prettiest women in London ; and these are 
illustrated with poetical effusions of the smallest 
possible merit, but exciting interest and curiosity 
from the notoriety of their authors ; and so, by 
all this puffing, and stuffing, and untiring industry, 
and practising on the vanity of some, and the 
good-nature of others, the end is attained ; and 
though I never met with any individual who had 
read any of her books, except the Conversations 
with Byron, which are too good to be hers, they 
are unquestionably a source of considerable profit, 
and she takes her place confidently and complacently 
as one of the literary celebrities of her day." 

The Conversations were in all probability 
almost entirely the composition of Lady Blessing- 
ton, more so indeed than they had any right to 
be, Byron's sayings being the invention to some 
extent at any rate of the lively imagination of the 
so-called recorder. But it is not necessary here 
— or anywhere — to discuss Lady Blessington's 
performances as a writer of fiction. 

The Durham referred to by Greville was 
John George Lambton, first Earl of Durham, 
who in 1838 had been appointed Governor- 



180 D'Orsay 

General of the British provinces of North America, 
and whose somewhat arbitrary proceedings there 
had not met with universal approbation. But there 
cannot be any doubt that in the main he was 
right and wise. Charles Buller, his secretary, 
is reputed to have been the author of Durham's 
famous Report on the Affairs of British North 
America, 

When Lord Durham was making ready for his 
departure to Canada, he included amonghis immense 
baggage a large number of musical instruments. 
" What on earth are they for ? " said a wonderer. 
To whom Sydney Smith : " Don't you know he 
is going to make overtures to the Canadians ? " 

George Ticknor describes Durham in 1838 as 
"little, dark-complexioned, red-faced-looking." 
Charles Greville had many severe things to say 
of him — and said them. 

Durham seems to have been on fairly intimate 
terms with Lady Blessington. In 1835 he writes 
from Cowes : — 

'■ I thank you much for your very agree- 
able letter, which I received this morning, and 
for your kind inquiries after my health, which 
is wonderfully improved, if not quite restored, by 
this fine air, and dolce far niente life. I antici- 
pate with horror the time when I shall be obliged 
to leave it, and mix once more in the troublous 
realities o\ \ public life." 

Durham died in 1 840, and of the event Alfred 
de Vigny wrote to Lady Blessington : — 

"Paris. 

" Moi qui me souviens, milady, de vous avoir 



Company 181 

trouve" un soir si profond^ment affect^ de la 
mort dune amie, je puis mesurer toute la peine 
que vous avez ^prouvde a la perte de Lord 
Durham. J'aimais toujours a me figurer que je le 
retrouverai a Gore House a cote de vous, et je 
ne puis croire encore qu'en si peu de temps il ait 
et£ enleve a ses amis. Je ne crains point avec 
vous de parler dune chose deja ancienne, comme 
on dirait a Paris, car je sais quel religieux 
souvenir vous gardez a ceux qui ne sont plus, et 
qui vous furent chers. 

" Je regrette dans Lord Durham tout l'avenir 
que je me promettois de sa vie politique, et le 
deVeloppement des idees saines et larges, que, 
chez vous il m'avait montr^es. Si je ne me suis 
trompe sur lui, l'alliance de la France lui semblait 
pr^cieuse a plus d'un titre, et il connaissait pro- 
pond^ment les vues de la Russie. S'il tenoit a 
cette generation de vos hommes d'etat qui prennent 
part aux plus grandes luttes, il &ait pourtant 
jeune d'esprit et de cceur, et un homme de passe 
et d'avenir a la fois sont bien rares. 

" Vous pensez a voyager en Italy, y songez 
vous encore, milady, je le voudrois puisque Paris 
est sur le chemin, et je suis assure" par toute la 
grace avec laquelle vous m'avez ouvert Gore 
House, que vous ne seriez point afflig^e de me 
voir vous porter en France l'assurance du plus 
sincere et du plus durable deVouement. 

"Alfred de Vigny." 

De Vigny was the popular French poet and 
novelist, author of Cinq Mars and Chatterton, of 



182 D'Orsay 

whom Lady Blessington remarked that he was 
"of fine feelings as well as genius, but were they 
ever distinct ? " 

Charles Buller will perhaps be chiefly re- 
membered as the pupil of Carlyle and the friend 
of Thackeray, who on his death in 1848 wrote to 
Mrs Brookfield : — 

" My Dear Lady — I am very much pained 
and shocked at the news brought at dinner 
to-day that poor dear Charles Buller is gone. 
Good God ! think about the poor mother sur- 
viving, and what an anguish that must be ! 
If I were to die I cannot bear to think of my 
mother living beyond me, as I daresay she will. 
But isn't it an awful, awful sudden summons ? 
There go wit, fame, friendship, ambition, high 
repute ! Ah ! aimons nous bien. It seems to me 
that is the only thing we can carry away. When 
we go let us have some who love us wherever we 
are. . . . Good-night." 

Thackeray, himself "no small beer" as a 
dandy in his young days, was a visitor to Gore 
House, and we fancy liked its mistress better than 
its master, with whom, however, he was on 
quite friendly terms. Lady Ritchie remembers 
a morning call paid by D'Orsay to her father : — 

" The most splendid person I ever remember 
seeing had a little pencil sketch in his hand, which 
he left behind him on the table. It was a very 
feeble sketch ; it seemed scarcely possible to 
admiring little girls that so grand a being should 
not be a bolder draughtsman. He appeared to us 



Company 183 

one Sunday morning in the sunshine. When I 
came hurrying down to breakfast I found him sitting 
beside my father at the table with an untasted cup of 
tea before him ; he seemed to fill the bow- window 
with radiance as if he were Apollo ; he leant against 
his chair with one elbow resting on its back, with 
shining studs and curls and boots. We could see 
his horse looking in at us over the blind. ... I 
think my father had a certain weakness for dandies, 
those knights of the broadcloth and shining fronts. 
Magnificent apparitions used to dawn upon us in 
the hall sometimes, glorious beings on their way 
to the study, but this one outshone them all." 

By the way, Chorley was never editor of 
the AtJienceum as Greville states. 

As for Brougham, what shall we say of that 
curious mixture of a man ? Three parts genius 
and one part humbug ? 

It was at Gore House on 21st October 1839, 
that Alfred Montgomery read out the letter he 
had received which purported to come from Mr 
Shafto at Penrith, at Brougham Hall. It announced 
that Brougham had been killed by the overturning 
of a postchaise in which he was driving. The com- 
pany present were completely deceived and the 
news was communicated to the papers, which with 
the exception of The Times gave it currency. 

Henry Reeve was dining at the club when he 
heard a rumour that Brougham was ill, and straight- 
way went up to Gore House, to find if there were 
any news. The letter had been brought over by 
Alfred Montgomery to Gore House early in the 
morning ; Shafto was the only uninjured survivor of 



184 D'Orsay 

the party of three in the chaise ; Brougham had been 
stunned by a kick from one of the horses, thrown 
down and the carriage had turned over on to him, 
crushing him to death. D'Orsay spread the news 
round the town in the afternoon, when he took 
his walk abroad. Reeve had better be left to tell 
the rest of the story of that evening : — 

"It was the most melancholy evening I ever 
spent there. In no house was Brougham so 
entirely tamed ; in none, except his own, so 
much beloved. Only last Sunday week — not 
ten days ago — just six before his death — he dined 
there, and stayed very late, which he rarely did, 
leaving them dazzled with the brilliancy of his 
unflagging spirit. I was to have dined there 
too ; they very earnestly pressed me ; but I 
had promised to go to Richmond. They tried 
hard, too, to get Sir A. Paget ; but we both 
stayed away, and they sat down to table thirteen. 
I can only say that the deaths which have struck 
me most in my life have always been preceded by 
a dinner of thirteen, in spite of efforts to avoid it." 

Brougham, it is said, was very much interested 
in reading his obituary notices ! Shafto promptly 
denounced the letter as a forgery. Who then 
wrote it ? The Duke of Cambridge among many 
others suspected the corpse, and greeted Brougham 
at a Privy Council meeting with : " Damn you, 
you dog, you wrote that letter, you know you 
did ! " and chased him round the room. D'Orsay 
apparently held the same opinion and was in 
turn himself accused of the hoax. Fonblanque 
writes to Lady Blessington : — 



Company 185 

" The falsehood that Count d'Orsay had 
anything to do with the hoax was sufficiently 
refuted by all who knew him, by the two circum- 
stances that it was stupid and cruel ; and the 
unique characteristic of D'Orsay is, that the most 
brilliant wit is uniformly exercised in the most 
good-natured way. He can be wittier with kind- 
ness than the rest of the world with malice." 

Reeve asserts roundly that Brougham wrote 
later to Montgomery, admitting that he was the 
perpetrator of the " thoughtless jest," and con- 
tinues : " D'Orsay drew a capital sketch of 
Brougham in his plaid trousers, from memory, 
which we thought invaluable ; and nobody could 
look at his wild, uncouth handwriting without 
tears in his eyes. In short, so bad a joke was 
never played off on so large a scale before ; but 
one can't look forward without a good deal of 
amusement to Brougham's telling the story." 

We meet Lyndhurst and Brougham together 
at Gore House this year, just as they appeared 
together in Punch later on in that famous cartoon 
" The Mrs Caudle of the House of Lords," drawn 
by Leech and invented by Thackeray. The 
picture represents Lyndhurst as Lord Chancellor 
reposing in bed, his head upon the woolsack, 
beside him Mrs Caudle Brougham, very much 
awake, and saying : " What do you say ? 
Thank heaven ! You are going to enjoy the 
recess — and you It be rid of me for some month* ? 
Never mind. Depend upon it, when you come 
back, you shall have it again. No : I don't raise 
the House, and set everybody in it by the ears ; 



i86 D'Orsay 

but I'm not going to give up every little privilege ; 

though it's seldom I open my lips, goodness knows!" 

Charles Sumner, the famous American senator 

and jurist, visited Gore House in March, and records : 

"As I entered her brilliant drawing-room, she 
came forward to receive me with that bewitching 
manner and skilful flattery which still give her 
such influence. ' Ah, Mr Sumner,' she said, 
' how sorry I am that you are so late ! Two of 
your friends have just left us — Lord Lyndhurst 
and Lord Brougham ; they have been pronounc- 
ing your tloge? She was, of course, the only 
lady present ; and she was surrounded by D'Orsay, 
Bulwer, Disraeli, Duncombe, the Prince Napoleon, 
and two or three lords. The house is a palace of 
Armida, about two miles from town. . . . The 
rooms are furnished in the most brilliant French 
style, and flame with costly silks, mirrored doors, 
bright lights, and golden ornaments. But Lady 
Blessington is the chief ornament. The world 
says she is almost fifty-eight ; by her own confession 
she must be over fifty, and yet she seems hardly 
forty : at times I might believe her twenty-five." 

Of D'Orsay, Sumner writes, he "surpasses all 
my expectations. He is the divinity of dandies ; 
in another age he would have passed into the 
court of the gods, and youths would have sacri- 
ficed to the God of Fashion. ... I have seen 
notes and letters from him, both in French and 
English, which are some of the cleverest I have 
ever read ; and in conversation, whether French 
or English, he is excessively brilliant." 

But most amazing of all his conquests was 



Company 187 

D'Orsay's subduing of Carlyle. Would it not 
have been thought that the dandy would have 
been a type peculiarly irritating to the author of 
Sartor Resartus ? 

On 1 6th April 1839, Carlyle writes from 
Cheyne Row to his brother John : — 

" . . . I must tell you of the strangest compli- 
ment of all, which occurred since I wrote last — the 
advent of Count d'Orsay. About a fortnight ago, 
this Phoebus Apollo of dandyism, escorted by poor 
little Chorley, came whirling hither in a chariot 
that struck all Chelsea into mute amazement with 
splendour. Chorley's under jaw went like the 
hopper or under riddle of a pair of fanners, such 
was his terror on bringing such a splendour into 
■actual contact with such a grimness. Neverthe- 
less, we did amazingly well, the Count and I. He is 
a tall fellow of six feet three, built like a tower, with 
floods of dark auburn hair, with a beauty, with an 
adornment unsurpassable on this planet ; withal a 
rather substantial fellow at bottom, by no means 
without insight, without fun, and a sort of rough 
sarcasm rather striking out of such a porcelain 
figure. He said, looking at Shelley's bust, in his 
French accent : ' Ah, it is one of those faces who 
weesh to swallow their chin.' He admired the fine 
epic, etc., etc. ; hoped I would call soon, and see 
Lady Blessington withal. Finally he went his way, 
and Chorley with re-assumed jaw. Jane laughed 
for two days at the contrast of my plaid dressing- 
gown, bilious, iron countenance, and this Paphian 
apparition. I did not call till the other day, and 
left my card merely. I do not see well what 



188 D'Orsay 

good I can get by meeting him much, or Lady B. 
and demirepdom, though I should not object to 
see it once, and then oftener if agreeable." 

But Carlyle was not always so complacent. 
In August 1848, the Carlyles received from 
Forster " An invaluable treat ; an opera box, 
namely, to hear Jenny Lind sing farewell. 
Illustrious indeed. We dined with Fuz * at five, 
the hospitablest of men ; at eight, found the 
Temple of the Muses all a-shine for Lind & Co. 
— the piece, La Sonnambula, a chosen bit of 
nonsense from beginning to end — and, I suppose, 
an audience of some three thousand expensive- 
looking fools, male and female, come to see this 
Swedish nightingale 'hop the twig,' as I phrased 
it. . . . ' Depend upon it,' said I to Fuz, ' the 
Devil is busy here to-night, wherever he may be 
idle ! ' Old Wellington had come staggering in 
to attend the thing. Thackeray was there ,* 
D'Orsay, Lady Blessington — to all of whom 
(Wellington excepted !) I had to be presented and 
give some kind of foolery — much against the grain." 

A curious company this that D'Orsay moved in : 
Brougham, Lyndhurst, Sumner, Carlyle, Landor, 
Macready, Haydon, Bulwer, the Disraelis, father 
and son ; men of brains and men without, of 
morals and of no morals ; comedians and heavy 
tragedians ; he himself the prince of comedians, 
though, as is often the case, beneath the light, 
lilting melodies there surged a solemn, minatory 
bass. An absolutely happy man this D'Orsay 
ought to have been, but — ? 

* Forster. 




Carlyle in 1839 

{By D'Orsay) 



[to pack page iS 



XVIII 

MORE FRIENDS 

Not only in the sports of the town but also in 
those of the country, and with equal success, did 
D'Orsay indulge, paying many a pleasant country 
visit. Thus in January 1840 he was down in 
Staffordshire hunting and shooting with Lord 
Anglesey, Lord Hatherston and other good 
sportsmen, and at the end of the same year he 
spent some weeks in the country with Lord 
Chesterfield. At Chesterfield House in town, 
too, D'Orsay passed many a pleasant hour with 
the generous, kindly Earl. 

D'Orsay had a fondness for the theatre, both 
the regions before and behind the curtain, and 
for those connected with it in any way. J. R. 
Planche, herald, dramatist and student of costume, 
was at Gore House on 6th May 1840, there 
being a brilliant company and much bright talk. 
Bright companions and gay converse : no wonder 
that D'Orsay said that " he had never known the 
meaning of the word ennui" To the production 
of Lytton's Money D'Orsay lent a hand in 1840, 
helping Macready in various ways to secure an 
accurate representation of club-life and so forth, 
introducing the actor to his hatter and so forth, 
and showing the innocent man how play -accounts 
and so forth were kept. Actors in those days must 
have been as innocent of the ways of the world 
as statesmen and politicians are in these times. 

189 



i9° D'Orsay 

Of another play of Bulwer's, Charles Greville 
records : — 

"March 8th, 1839. — I went last night to the 
first representation of Bulwer's play Richelieu ; a 
fine play, admirably got up, and very well acted 
by Macready, except the last scene, the concep- 
tion of which was altogether bad. He turned 
Richelieu into an exaggerated Sixtus V., who 
completely lost sight of his dignity, and swaggered 
about the stage, taunting his foes, and hugging 
his friends with an exultation quite unbecoming 
and out of character. With this exception it was 
a fine performance ; the success was unbounded, 
and the audience transported. After Macready 
had been called on, they found out Bulwer, who 
was in a small private box next the one I was 
in with Lady Blessington and D'Orsay, and were 
vociferous for his appearance to receive their 
applause. After a long delay, he bowed two or 
three times, and instantly retreated. Directly 
after he came into our box, looking very serious 
and rather agitated ; while Lady Blessington 
burst into floods of tears at his success, which 
was certainly very brilliant." 

Macready himself notes of this occasion : 
" Acted Cardinal Richelieu very nervously : lost 
my self-possession, and was obliged to use too 
much effort ; it did not satisfy me at all. How 
can a person get up such a play and do justice at 
the same time to such a character ! " 

It was in truth a dazzling circle of dandies 
with whom Lady Blessington and D'Orsay were 
surrounded : Disraeli, Bulwer, Ainsworth, Dickens 



More Friends 191 

— in fact Gore House was the haunt of the 
novelists, for to the above may be added 
Thackeray and Marryat. Ainsworth aped D'Orsay 
in matters of costume and attitudinising, but as is 
so often the case with imitators the copy did not 
nearly equal the great original. The author of 
Jack Shepherd and many other capital stories was 
"a fine, tall, handsome, well- whiskered fellow, 
with a profusion of chestnut curls, and bore him- 
self with no inconsiderable manifestation of self- 
consciousness." Ainsworth started business life 
as a publisher, but made fame and money as a 
writer. In order to correct the above somewhat 
acrid description of him, here is a pleasanter one 
of later years : — 

" The time is early summer, the hour about 
eight o'clock in the evening ; dinner has been 
removed from the prettily-decorated table, and 
the early fruits tempt the guests, to the number 
of twelve or so, who are grouped around it. At 
the head there sits a gentleman no longer in his 
first youth, but still strikingly handsome ; there is 
something artistic about his dress, and there may 
be a little affectation in his manners, but even 
this may in some people be a not unpleasing 
element. He was our host, William Harrison 
Ainsworth, and, whatever may have been the 
claims of others, and, in whatever circles they 
might move, no one was more genial, no one 
more popular." 

Charles Dickens first visited Gore House in 
1840, and soon gained and always retained the 
friendship of D'Orsay. Dickens was a very vivid 



192 D'Orsay 

dresser, his gay spirit loved riotous colours. He 
has been described as "rather florid in his dress, 
and gave me an impression of gold chain and 
pin and an enormous tie." Dickens thoroughly 
enjoyed the conviviality of Gore House, as is 
shown by the following letter : — 

"Covent Garden, 
"Sunday, Noon, December 1844. 

" My Dear Lady Blessington, — Business 
for other people (and by no means of a pleasant 
kind) has held me prisoner during two whole 
days, and will so detain me to-day, in the very 
agony of my departure for Italy again, that I 
shall not even be able to reach Gore House once 
more, on which I had set my heart. I cannot 
bear the thought of going away without some 
sort of reference to the happy day you gave me 
on Monday, and the pleasure and delight I had 
in your earnest greeting. I shall never forget 
it, believe me. It would be worth going to 
China — it would be worth going to America, 
to come home again for the pleasure of such a 
meeting with you and Count d'Orsay — to whom 
my love, and something as near it to Miss Power 
and her sister as it is lawful to send. ..." 

And this message in another letter to Lady 
Blessington, written in the following year : — 

" Do not let your nieces forget me, if you can 
help it, and give my love to Count d'Orsay, with 
many thanks to him for his charming letter. I 

was greatly amused by his account of . 

There was a cold shade of aristocracy about it, 



More Friends 193 

and a dampness of cold water, which entertained 
me beyond measure." 

There were three dandies in this Gore House 
circle of strangely different temperaments and 
abilities. Dickens, a thorough Englishman in 
almost every habit and instinct, who dressed 
violently rather than well, sported somewhat 
fantastic costumes simply because it was the 
fashion so to do among the young men with 
whom his growing fame had brought him into 
contact. In the inner meaning of the word 
Dickens was no dandy, but simply a dressy 
man ; his was not the dandiacal temper. Of 
this, indeed, there was far more in the Oriental 
Disraeli, though he, like his Vivian Grey, used 
high dressing as a pose. Whatever he under- 
took he loved to do well, and in his youth even 
to do to extremes. The effeminate dandy pose was 
excellently acted in the following which he tells of 
himself, writing from Malta to his father in 1830 : — 
"Affectation tells here even better than wit. 
Yesterday, at the racket court, sitting in the 
gallery among strangers, the ball entered, and 
lightly struck me- and fell at my feet. I picked 
it up, and observing a young rifleman excessively 
stiff, I humbly requested him to forward its 
passage into the court, as I really had never 
thrown a ball in my life. This incident has 
been the general subject of conversation at all 
the messes to-day ! " 

And this from Gibraltar : — 

"Tell my mother that as it is the fashion 
among the dandies of this place — that is, the 



194 D'Orsay 

officers, for there are no others — not to wear 
waistcoats in the morning, her new studs come 
into fine play and maintain my reputation of 
being a great judge of costume, to the admira- 
tion and envy of many subalterns. I have also 
the fame of being the first who ever passed the 
Straits with two canes, a morning and an evening 
cane. I change my cane as the gun fires, and 
hope to carry them both on to Cairo. It is 
wonderful the effect these magical wands produce. 
I owe to them even more attention than to being 
the supposed author of — what is it ? — I forget ! " 

Disraeli in his dress had a touch of the 
fantastic, as thus, when he appeared at a dinner 
party attired in a coat of black velvet lined 
with satin, purple trousers with a gold stripe down 
the seam, a scarlet waistcoat, lace ruffles down to 
the fingers' tips, white gloves with rings worn out- 
side them and his hair in long, black ringlets. 

Dickens was only a clothes-deep dandy ; 
Disraeli was a true dandy as far as he went, but 
he did not go all the way. He trifled with politics, 
he did not realise that to be a perfect, complete 
dandy, calls for the devotion of a lifetime. 
D'Orsay made no such mistake ; he was a dandy 
through and through and all the way ; a dandy 
in love affairs, in his toilet, in his clothes, in his 
sport, and in all the arts of life from cookery 
down to sculpture. Thus it must be with every 
great man ; he aims at one target, pulls his bow 
with all his strength, and shoots only at that 
one mark. D'Orsay had but one aim, to lead 
a life of dandified pleasure. 



XIX 



NAP 



Charles Sumner writes in March 1840: " Lady 
Blessington is as pleasant and time-defying as 
ever, surrounded till one or two of the morning 
with her brilliant circle. . . . Prince Napoleon is 
always there, and of course D'Orsay." 

Says Edmund Yates, writing of the great folk 
in Hyde Park at a later date : — 

" There, in a hooded cabriolet, the fashionable 
vehicle for men-about-town, with an enormous 
champing horse, and the trimmest of tiny grooms 
— ' tigers,' as they were called — half standing on 
the footboard behind, half swinging in the air, 
clinging on to the straps, would be Count d'Orsay, 
with clear-cut features and raven hair, the king of 
the dandies, the cynosure of all eyes, the greatest 
' swell ' of the day. He was an admirable whip — 
he is reported on one occasion, by infinite spirit 
and dash, to have cut the wheel off a brewer's 
dray which was bearing down upon his light 
carriage, and to have spoken of it afterwards as 
1 the triumph of mind over matter ' — and always 
drove in faultless white kid gloves, with his shirt 
wristbands turned back over his coat-cuffs, and 
his whole ' turn-out ' was perfection. By his side 
was occasionally seen Prince Louis Napoleon, an 
exile too, after his escape from Ham, residing in 
lodgings in King Street, St James' — he pointed 

195 



196 D'Orsay 

out the house to the Empress Eugenie when, as 
Emperor of the French, on his visit to Queen 
Victoria, he drove by it. He was a constant 
visitor of Lady Blessington's at Gore House. 
Albert Smith, in later years, used to say he 
wondered whether, if he called at the Tuileries, 
the Emperor would pay him ' that eighteenpence,' 
the sum which one night at Gore House he 
borrowed from A. S. to pay a cabman." 

A strange, almost uncanny personage in some 
ways, this Louis Napoleon, with his dogged, not 
to be daunted belief in his high destiny. 

George Augustus Sala thus describes him : — 

" A short, slight form he had, and not a very 
graceful way of standing. His complexion was 
swarthily pale, if I may be allowed to make use of 
that somewhat paradoxical expression. His hair 
struck me as being of a dark brown ; it was much 
lighter in after years ; and while his cheeks were 
clean-shaven, the lower part of his face was con- 
cealed by a thick moustache and an ' imperial ' 
or chin-tuft. He was gorgeously arrayed in the 
dandy evening costume of the period ... he 
wore a satin 'stock,' green, if I am not mis- 
taken ; and in the centre of that stock was a 
breastpin in the image of a gold eagle encircled 
with diamonds." 

Shee notes in May 1839, of an evening at Gore 
House : " Among the company last night was 
Prince Louis Napoleon. He was quiet, silent, 
and inoffensive, as, to do him justice, he generally 
is, but he does not impress one with the idea that 
he has inherited his uncle's talents any more than 



Nap 



197 



his fortunes. He went away before the circle 
quite broke up, leaving, like Sir Peter Teazle, 
1 his character behind him,' and the few remaining 
did not spare him, but discussed him in a tone 
that was far from flattering. D'Orsay, however, 
who came in later with Lord Pembroke, stood up 
manfully for his friend, which was pleasant to see." 

Said D'Orsay : " C'est un brave garcon, mais 
pas d'esprit " ; yet stood manfully by him. 

There is not the slightest doubt that very 
intimate relations existed between D'Orsay and 
Louis Napoleon during his days of exile in 
England. Napoleon III. was the son of Louis 
Napoleon, King of Holland and his wife Hort- 
ense, whom Lady Blessington met in Italy. Of 
this meeting the following entry from Lady Bles- 
sington's Journal, dated Rome, March 1828, is a 
quite interesting account : — 

" Though prepared to meet in Hortense 
Bonaparte, ex - Queen of Holland, a woman 
possessed of no ordinary powers of captivation, 
she has, I confess, far exceeded my expectations. 
I have seen her frequently ; and spent two hours 
yesterday in her society. Never did time fly 
with greater rapidity than while listening to her 
conversation, and hearing her sing those charm- 
ing little French romances, written and composed 
by herself, which, though I had always admired 
them, never previously struck me as being so 
expressive and graceful as they now prove to be. 
Hortense, or the Duchesse de St Leu, as she is 
at present styled, is of the middle stature, slight 
and well formed ; her feet and ankles remarkably 



198 D'Orsay 

fine ; and her whole tournure graceful, and dis- 
tinguished. Her complexion and hair are fair, 
and her countenance is peculiarly expressive ; its 
habitual character being mild and pensive, until 
animated by conversation, when it becomes arch 
and spirituelle. I know not that I ever en- 
countered a person with so fine a tact, or so quick 
an apprehension, as the Duchesse de St Leu : 
these give her the power of rapidly forming an 
appreciation of those with whom she comes in 
contact ; and of suiting the subjects of conversa- 
tion to their tastes and comprehensions. Thus, 
with the grave she is serious, with the lively gay ; 
and with the scientific, she only permits just a 
sufficient extent of her own savoir to be revealed 
to encourage the development of theirs. She is, 
in fact, ' all things to all men,' without at the 
same time losing a single portion of her own 
natural character ; a peculiarity of which seems to 
be, the desire, as well as the power, of sending 
away all who approach her satisfied with them- 
selves, and delighted with her. Yet there is no 
unworthy concession of opinions made, or tacit 
acquiescence yielded to conciliate popularity ; she 
assents to, or dissents from, the sentiments of 
others, with a mildness and good sense that 
gratifies those with whom she coincides, or dis- 
arms those from whom she differs. The only 
flattery she condescends to practise is that most 
refined and delicate of all, the listening with 
marked attention to the observations of those 
with whom she converses ; and this tacit symptom 
of respect to others is not more the result of an 



Nap 



199 



extreme politeness, than of a fine nature, attentive 
to the feelings of those around her. . . . 

"It is not often that a woman so accomplished 
unites the more solid attraction of a highly-culti- 
vated mind : yet in Hortense this is the case ; 
for, though a perfect musician, a most successful 
amateur in drawing, and mistress of three 
languages, she is well read in history and belles- 
lettres ; has an elementary knowledge of the 
sciences, and a general acquaintance with the 
works of the most esteemed authors of ancient 
and modern times. Her remarks denote an 
acute perception, and a superior understanding ; 
and are delivered with such a perfect freedom 
from all assumption of the self-conceit of a bas- 
bleu, or the dictatorial style of one accustomed 
to command attention, that they acquire an 
additional charm from the modest grace with 
which they are uttered. . . . 

11 She showed me her diamonds yesterday, 
and some of them are magnificent, particularly 
the necklace presented to the Empress Josephine 
by the city of Paris. It is a riviere of large 
diamonds, of such immense value that none but a 
sovereign, or some of our own princely nobility, 
could become the purchaser. Her other diamonds 
are very fine, and consist of many parures, some 
presented to her as Queen of Holland; and others 
bequeathed to her, with the necklace, by her 
mother. Her bed, furniture, and toilette service 
of gilt plate, are very magnificent, and are the 
same that served her in her days of regal state. 
The arrangement of her apartments indicates a 



200 D'Orsay 

faultless taste, uniting elegance and comfort with 
grandeur. She has some fine portraits of Napoleon 
and Josephine in her possession : on our contem- 
plating them, she referred to her mother with as 
much sensibility as if her death had been recent. 

" Prince Louis Bonaparte lives with his 
mother, and never did I witness a more devoted 
attachment than subsists between them. He is a 
fine, high-spirited youth, admirably well educated, 
and highly accomplished, uniting to the gallant 
bearing of a soldier all the politeness of a freux 
chevalier ; but how could he be otherwise, brought 
up with such a mother ? Prince Louis Bonaparte 
is much beloved and esteemed by all who know 
him, and is said to resemble his uncle, the Prince 
Eugene Beauharnois (sic), no less in person than 
in mind ; possessing his generous nature, personal 
courage, and high sense of honour." 

It is not necessary to follow in any detail the 
career of Louis Napoleon, so we will skip on to 
the year 1840, when on 6th August he made his 
absurd descent upon France, landing at Boulogne 
with about sixty followers. 

Lord Malmesbury, who was often a visitor at 
Gore House, mentions a curious little happening. 

" jtk August. — News arrived this morning of 
Louis Napoleon having landed yesterday morn- 
ing at Boulogne with fifty followers. None of 
the soldiers, however, having joined him, the 
attempt totally failed, and he and most of those 
who accompanied him were taken. This ex- 
plains an expression he used to me two evenings 
ago. He was standing on the steps of Lady 



Nap 



20I 



Blessington's house after a party, wrapped up 
in a cloak, with Persigny by him, and I observed 
to them : ' You look like two conspirators,' upon 
which he answered : ' You may be nearer right 
than you think.' " 

Disraeli writes on the same day : — 

" The morning papers publish two editions, 
and Louis Napoleon, who last year at Bulwer's 
nearly drowned us by his bad rowing, has now up- 
set himself at Boulogne. Never was anything so 
rash and crude to all appearances as this ' invasion,' 
for he was joined by no one. A fine house in Carl- 
ton Gardens, his Arabian horses, and excellent cook 
was hardly worse than his present situation." 

He was captured, tried, condemned to per- 
petual imprisonment, and consigned to the fortress 
of Ham, where he remained for five years, and 
then escaped to England. 

On August 2nd, 1840, Planche relates that he 
went between ten and eleven to Gore House, 
where there had been a small dinner party, of 
which four men had stayed on, Lord Nugent, 
"Poodle" Byng, and two strangers. "The 
youngest immediately engaged my attention. 
It was the fashion in that day to wear black 
satin kerchiefs for evening dress ; and that of the 
gentleman in question was fastened by a large 
spread eagle in diamonds, clutching a thunder- 
bolt of rubies. There was but one man in 
England at that period who, without the im- 
peachment of coxcombry, could have sported so 
magnificent a jewel ; and, though I had never 
to my knowledge seen him before, I felt con- 



202 D'Orsay 

vinced that he could be no other than Prince 
Louis Napoleon. Such was the fact ; and his 
companion was Count Montholon." Planche" 
walked home with Nugent and Byng, one of 
whom remarked: " What could Louis Napoleon 
mean by asking us to dine with him this day 
twelvemonths at the Tuileries ? " The ill- 
starred landing at Boulogne a few days later 
explained the mystery. 

But earlier in this same year (1840), D'Orsay 
had supported the Prince in another adventure. 

For many years a peculiar Count Leon had 
been looked on as one of the curiosities of Paris ; 
in appearance he was an enlarged replica of 
Napoleon the Great, which was not surprising 
seeing that he was reputed — probably wrongly 
— to be his son by the Polish Countess Walewska. 
Napoleon provided for the education of his 
offspring, who in 1830 attained the dignity of a 
colonelcy in the Legion of the Garde Nationale. 

In February 1840, Count L^on came over to 
London, it being absurdly stated afterward that 
he had been entrusted by the Tuileries with the 
pleasing duty of removing Louis Napoleon. 

The Prince refused to receive the Count, 
from whom after some heated correspondence he 
received a challenge, borne by Lieutenant- 
Colonel Ratcliffe. L^on refused to engage with 
swords, so pistols were decided upon ; the hour 
chosen being seven o'clock on the morning of 
3rd March, and the place Wimbledon Common. 
Napoleon was accompanied by D'Orsay and 
Colonel Parquin. It was not until the parties 



Nap 



203 



were on the ground that Count Leon raised the 
■difficulty about the weapons to be used, and the 
delay caused by the discussion on the point gave 
time to the authorities to arrive and put an end 
to the contemplated breach of the peace. The 
upshot of this fiasco was an appearance at Bow 
Street. Before the Court proceeded to deal with 
the ordinary night charges, Prince Louis and 
Count L£on were charged before Mr Jardine 
with having attempted a breach of the peace by 
fighting a duel ; Ratcliffe, Parquin, D'Orsay, and 
Martial Kien, a servant, were brought in as being 
aiders and abettors. They were all " bound 
over," Mr Joshua Bates, of Baring Brothers, 
becoming surety for Prince Louis and Colonel 
Parquin, and the Honourable Francis Baring for 
D'Orsay. So ended the encounter. 

On January 13th, 1841, Napoleon wrote from 
Ham to Lady Blessington, in reply to a letter 
from her : — 

" 1 am very grateful for your remembrance, 
and I think with grief that none of your previous 
letters have reached me. I have received from 
Gore House only one letter, from Count d'Orsay, 
which I hastened to answer when I was at the 
Conciergerie. I bitterly regret that my letter was 
intercepted, for in it I expressed all the gratitude 
at the interest he took in my misfortunes. . . . My 
thoughts often wander to the place where you live, 
and I recall with pleasure the time I have passed in 
your amiable society, which the Count d'Orsay still 
brightens with his frank and spirituel gaiety." 

On the 26th of May 1846, there was gathered 



204 D'Orsay 

together a gay dinner-party at Gore House, 
among those assembled, beside the host and 
hostess, being Landor and John Forster. A 
message was brought in to D'Orsay that a person, 
who preferred not to give his name, desired to 
see him. To the amazement of D'Orsay the 
unknown turned out to be Louis Napoleon, 
just landed after his escape from Ham. He 
came in and entertained the party with a 
vivacious account of his adventures. 

Serjeant Ballantine describes a curious visit 
paid to him at his chambers in June 1847 by 
Louis Napoleon and D'Orsay, which certainly 
strengthens the statements made by others that 
the dandy was upon very intimate terms with the 
prince. The visit was concerned with some of 
Napoleon's money-raising endeavours, which had 
resulted in his being swindled by a rascally bill- 
discounter, but in which the Serjeant could not 
assist to right the wrong. Ballantine dubs 
D'Orsay, " the prince of dandies," adding that he 
" never saw a man who in personal qualities sur- 
passed him"; continuing, he "was courteous to 
everyone, and kindly. He put the companions 
of his own sex perfectly at their ease, and 
delighted them with his varied conversation, and 
I never saw anyone whose manner to ladies was 
more pleasing and deferential." 

Louis "Philippe toppled over ; a Republic 
was set up in February 1848, and Napoleon 
promptly and effectively took advantage of the 
situation thus created to push himself to the 
front. In December of the same year he was 



Nap 205 

elected President. The oath that he swore on 
the occasion was : "In the presence of God and 
before the French people represented by the 
National Assembly, I swear to remain faithful to 
the Democratic Republic, one and indivisible, and 
to fulfil all the duties imposed on me by the 
Constitution." And on the 2nd of December 
1 85 1, he dissolved the said Assembly, upset the 
Republic, and shortly became Napoleon III, 
Emperor of the French. 

Among Napoleon's English advisers was 
Albany Fonblanque, who through D'Orsay sent him 
some suggestions as to the policy it would be wise for 
the President of the French Republic to pursue. 
How far that advice promised to produce fruit, the 
following letter shows : — 

"Gore House, 26th January 1849. 

11 Mon Cher Fonblanque, — J'espere que vous 
avez vu que notre conseil a ete~ £coute* ; les 
reductions dans l'armee et la marine sont tres 
fortes, et Napoleon a £prouve\ je vous assure, une 
grande opposition pour en arriver la. L'arm^e, 
qui £tait en 1845 de 502,196 hommes et de 100, 
432 horses, sera reduite en 1849 a 380,824 
hommes et 92,410 chevaux. Le Budget de la 
Marine est diminu6 de vingt deux millions et 
plus ; la flotte en activite est reduite a dix 
vaisseaux de ligne, huit fregates, etc. — et il y a 
aussi une grande reduction dans les travaux des 
arsenaux. Tout cela devrait plaire a John Bull 
et a Cobden. Je vous promets que ces reduc- 
tions n'en resteront pas la ; mais il faut considerer 
la difficult^ qu'il y a de toucher aux joujoux des 



206 DOrsay 

enfants francais, car chez nous larai^e est l'objet 
principal ; chez vous ce n'est qu'un accessoire. 
Votre affectionne, D'Orsay." 

Madden, in his description of this " man- 
mystery," for once in a way is graphic. " I 
watched his pale, corpse-like, imperturbable 
features, not many months since, for a period 
of three hours. I saw eighty thousand men in 
arms pass before him, and I never observed a 
change in his countenance or an expression in his 
look which would enable the bystander to say 
whether he was pleased or otherwise at the 
stirring scene. ... He did not speak to those 
around him, except at very long intervals, and 
then with an air of nonchalance, of ennui and 
eternal occupation with self; he rarely spoke a 
syllable to his uncle, Jerome Bonaparte, who was 
on horseback somewhat behind him. ... He 
gave me the idea of a man who had a perfect 
reliance on himself, and a feeling of complete 
control over those around him. But there was a 
weary look about him, an aspect of excessive 
watchfulness, an appearance of want of sleep, of 
over-work, of over-indulgence, too, that gives an 
air of exhaustion to face and form, and leaves an 
impression on the mind of a close observer that 
the machine of the body will break down soon, 
and suddenly — or the mind will give way — under 
the pressure of pent-up thoughts and energies 
eternally in action, and never suffered to be 
observed or noticed by friends or followers." 

Louis Napoleon is, as everybody knows, the 




J 









C'-/i 



NAI'OLEON III 
(By D'Orsay) 



[to i ace page 206 



Nap 



207 



Colonel Albert who plays so large a part in Lord 
Beaconsfield's unjustly neglected Endymion, 
quite one of the most delightful of his novels, 
although it contains that strange caricature of 
Thackeray in the grotesque personage of St Barbe. 

Says " Colonel Albert " : — " ... I am the child 
of destiny. That destiny will again place me on the 
throne of my fathers. That is as certain as I am now 
speaking to you. But destiny for its fulfilment or- 
dains action. Its decrees are inexorable, but they 
are obscure, and the being whose career it directs is 
as a man travelling in a dark night ; he reaches 
his goal even without the aid of stars and moon." 

Louis Napoleon emerged from the dark night 
of his exile and sat in the limelight that beats 
upon a throne, and he achieved his destiny with- 
out accepting the aid or advice of his friend, 
D'Orsay. He did not trust the latter with his 
counsels and could scarcely have been expected 
to ask him to accompany him to France. 
D'Orsay would have been the central figure ; 
the Prince of the Dandies would have basked in 
the popularity which the future Emperor of the 
French knew he must focus upon himself. 

After his escape to London from Ham, Louis 
Napoleon, however, does seem to have consulted 
with D'Orsay, and acting upon his advice to have 
written to the French Ambassador to the Court 
of St James, stating that it was his intention to 
settle down quietly as a private individual ; which 
statement was doubtless taken for what it was 
worth. D'Orsay may have helped, also, toward 
Napoleon's election as President by interesting 



208 D'Orsay 

friends in his cause, but of the schemes upon the 
empty imperial throne D'Orsay appears to have 
been ignorant. Indeed, he went so far as to 
express his opinion of the coup d'etat, that " it is 
the greatest political swindle that ever has been 
practised in the world ! " 

The following letter to Landor from Lady 
Blessington is interesting : — 

"Gore House, 28M February 1848. 

" I will not admit that the eruption of the 
Parisian volcano has brought out only cinders 
from your brain, au contraire, the lava is glowing 
and full of fire — your honest indignation has been 
ignited and has sent forth a bright flame. 

"It gave me great pleasure to see your hand- 
writing again, for I had thought it long since I 
had heard from you. I saw it stated to-day in 
the Daily News that Count d'Orsay had set out 
for Paris with Prince Louis. This report is wholly 
untrue. Prince Louis has gone to Paris alone. 
Here no one pities Louis Philippe, nor has the report 
of his death mitigated the indignation excited against 
him. His family are to be pitied, for I believe they 
were not implicated in his crooked policy. Seldom 
has vengeance so rapidly overtaken guilt." 

Still more interesting this from Landor to 
Lady Blessington, written about a year later, on 
9th January 1849 — 

" Possibly you may never have seen the two 
articles I enclose. I inserted in the Examiner 
another, deprecating the anxieties which a truly 
patriotic and, in my opinion, a singularly wise 
man, was about to encounter, in accepting the 



Nap 



209 



Presidency of France. Necessity will compel him 
to assume the Imperial Power, to which the voice 
of the army and people will call him. 

"You know (who know not only my writings, 
but my heart) how little I care for station. I may 
therefore tell you safely, that I feel a great interest, 
a great anxiety, for the welfare of Louis Napoleon. 
I told him if ever he were again in prison, I would 
visit him there ; but never, if he were upon a throne, 
would I come near him. He is the only man living 
who would adorn one, but thrones are my aversion 
and abhorrence. France, I fear, can exist in no 
other condition. Her public men are greatly 
more able than ours, but they have less integrity. 
Every Frenchman is by nature an intriguer. It 
was not always so, to the same extent ; but nature 
is modified, and even changed, by circumstances. 
Even garden statues take their form from clay. 

" God protect the virtuous Louis Napoleon, 
and prolong in happiness the days of my dear, 
kind friend, Lady Blessington. W. S. L." 

" I wrote a short letter to the President, and 
not of congratulation. May he find many friends 
as disinterested and sincere." 

Wellington also judged Napoleon's rise to 
power in France as propitious, and wrote to 
D'Orsay on 9th April 1849 : — "Je me rejouis de 
la prospe'rite' de la France et du succes de M. le 
President de la Republique. Tout tend vers la 
permanence de la paix de t Europe qui est 
ndcessaire pour le bonheur de chacun. Votre ami 
tres devoue'. Wellington." 



210 D'Orsay 

Though D'Orsay was not Napoleon's active 
ally, he watched his progress with interest, and, 
despite the opinion he held of the means em- 
ployed, apparently with approbation also up to a 
point. To Madden on the first day of the Pre- 
sidential election, a Sunday — but really we must 
here have Madden's own words : — " He came to 
my house before church-time, and diverted me 
from graver duties, to listen to his confident 
anticipations of the result of that memorable day. 
' Think,' said he, ' what is the ordinary November 
weather in Paris : and here is a beautiful day. 
I have watched the mercury in my garden. I 
have seen where is the wind, and I tell you, 
that on Paris is what they will call the sun of 
Austerlitz. To-morrow you shall hear that, while 
we are now talking, they vote for him with almost 
one mind, and that he has the absolute majority.' ' : 

And later, he wrote to Richard Lane, the 
artist : " Rely upon it, he will do more for France 
than any sovereign has done for the last two 
centuries, if only they give him time." 

Even previous to this exciting period, at the 
time of the Boulogne descent, Lady Blessington 
was shedding ink in the defence of D'Orsay ; writing 
to Henry Bulwer : — 

"Gore House, 17th Septe?nber 1840. 

" I am never surprised at evil reports, how- 
ever unfounded, still less so at any acts of friend- 
ship and manliness on your part. . . . Alfred is 
at Doncaster, but he charges me to authorise you 
to contradict, in the most positive terms, the 
reports about his having participated in, or even 



Nap 



21 I 



known, of the intentions of the Prince Louis. 
Indeed, had he suspected them, he would have 
used every effort in his power to dissuade him 
from putting them into execution. Alfred, as 
well as I, entertain the sincerest regard for the 
Prince, with whom, for fourteen years, we have 
been on terms of intimacy ; but of his plans we 
knew no more than you did. Alfred by no means 
wishes to conceal his attachment to the Prince, 
and still less that any exculpation of himself 
should in any way reflect on him ; but who so 
well as you, whose tact and delicacy are equal to 
your good-nature, can fulfil the service to Alfred 
that we require ? 

" Lady C * writes to me that /, too, am 

mixed up in the reports. But I defy the malice 
of my greatest enemy to prove that I ever 
dreamt of the Prince's intentions or plans." 

Both D'Orsay and Lady Blessington had to do 
with Napoleon as Emperor. 

D'Orsay, to a certain extent, tried to run both 
with the fox and with the hounds, for, in 1841, 
an attempt was made to procure for him the 
appointment of Secretary to the French Embassy 
in London. The Count St Aulaire was then 
Ambassador, and much influence was brought to 
bear upon him in this matter. 

Among Lady Blessington's papers was found 
the following memorandum by her, which throws 
considerable light upon this affair : — 

"With regard to the intentions relative to our 
Count, there is not even a shadow of truth in 

* Possibly Lady Canterbury. 



212 DOrsay 

them. Alfred never was presented here at Court, 
and never would, though I, as well as his other 
friends, urged it : his motive (for declining) being, 
never having left his name at any of the French 
Ambassadors of Louis Philippe (not even at Count 
Sebastiani's, a connection of his own) or at 
Marshal Soult's, also nearly connected with his 
family, he could not ask to be presented at Court 
by the French Ambassador, and did not think it 
right to be presented by anyone else . . . and 
the etiquette of not having been engaged to meet 
the Queen, unless previously presented at Court, 
is too well known to admit of any mistake. . . . 
I enter into these details merely to show the utter 
falsehoods which have been listened to against 
Alfred. Now with regard to his creditors, his 
embarrassments have been greatly exaggerated ; 
and when the sale of the northern estates in 
Ireland shall have been effected, which must be 
within a year, he will be released from all his 
difficulties.* In the meantime he has arranged 
matters, by getting time from his creditors. So 
that all the fuss made by the nomination, being- 
only sought as a protection from them, falls to 
the ground. ... I mention all these facts to 
show how ill Alfred has been treated. If the 
appointment in London is still deemed impracti- 
cable, why should not they offer him the secre- 
taryship at Madrid, which is vacant ? 

"Alfred entrusted the affair (of the appoint- 
ment) to M and W . He received posi- 

* If Lady Blessington wrote this in good faith, "our Count'** 
must have deceived her grossly as to the amount of his debts. 



Nap 



213 



tive assurances from both that he would receive 
an appointment in the French Embassy here, 
and that it was only necessary, as a mere matter 
of etiquette, that St Aulaire was to ask for his 
nomination to have it granted. The assurances 
were so positive that he could not doubt them, 
and he accordingly acted on them. The highest 
eulogies on Alfred's abilities and power of render- 
ing service to the French Government were 
voluntarily pronounced to St Aulaire by Lord 

B , the Duke of B , and other persons of 

distinction. M. St Aulaire, not satisfied with these 
honourable testimonies, consulted a coterie of foolish 
women, and listening to their malicious gossiping, 
he concluded that the nomination would not be 
popular in London, and so was afraid to ask for it. 
" It now appears that the Foreign Office at 
Paris is an inquisition into the private affairs of 
those who have the misfortune to have any refer- 
ence to it ; a bad plan when clever men are so 
scarce in France, and particularly those well- 
born and well-connected : a Government like the 
present should be glad to catch any such that 
could be had. Margt. Blessington." 

To which may be added a letter from Henry 
Bulwer to Lady Blessington, written in December 
1841 : — 

" My Dear Lady Blessington, — I think 
D'Orsay wrong in these things you refer to : to 
have asked for London especially, and not to 
have informed me * how near the affair was to its 

* Bulwer was at this time charge d'affaires at Paris. 



214 D'Orsay 

maturity when St Aulaire went to the D. of 

B 's, because I might then have prepared 

opinion for it here ; whereas, I first heard the 
affair mentioned in a room, where I had to con- 
tend against every person present, when I stated 
what I think — that the appointment would have 
been a very good one. But it does not now 
signify talking about the matter, and saying that 
I should have wished our friend to have given 
the matter rather an air of doing a favour than of 
asking one. It is right to say that he has acted 
most honourably, delicately, and in a way which 
ought to have served him, though, perhaps, it is 
not likely to do so. The French Ambassador did 
not, I think, wish for the nomination. M. Guizot, 
I imagine, is, at this moment, afraid of anything 
that might excite discussion and opposition, and 
it is idle to disguise from you that D'Orsay, both 
in England and here, has many enemies. The 
best service I can do him is by continuing to 
speak of him as I have done amongst influential 
persons, viz., as a man whom the Government 
would do well to employ ; and my opinion is, that 
if he continues to wish for and to seek employ- 
ment, he will obtain it in the end. But I 
don't think he will obtain the situation he wished 
for in London, and I think it may be some little 
time before he gets such a one as he ought to 
have, and that would suit him. The Secretary- 
ship in Spain would be an excellent thing, and I 
would aid the Marshal in anything he might do 
or say respecting it. I shall be rather surprised, 
however, if the present man is recalled. Well 



Nap 



215 



do not let D'Orsay lose courage. Nobody suc- 
ceeds in these things just at the moment he 

desires : , with his position here " (speaking 

of a French nobleman), "has been ten years 
getting made an ambassador, and at last is so by 
a fortunate chance. Remember also how long it 
was, though I was in Parliament, and had some 
little interest, before I was myself fairly launched 
in the diplomatic career. Alfred has all the 
qualities for success in anything, but he must 
give the same trouble and pains to the pursuit 
he now engages in that he has given to other 
pursuits previously. At all events, though I 
speak frankly and merely what I think to him, 
I am here and always a sincere and affectionate 
friend, and most desirous to prove myself so." 

To Madden, Henry Bulwer expressed the 
opinion : — " It was altogether a great pity D'Orsay 
was not employed, for he was not only fit to be 
so, but to make a most useful and efficient agent, 
had he been appointed." 

But Governments, as well as individuals, are 
fallible, and often blind to their best interests. 
Yet it really is difficult to understand why D'Orsay 
was refused his modest request ; what more dis- 
tinguished ornament to an Embassy could be 
desired than a splendid libertine and a man dis- 
tinguished for the vastness of his debts ? Un- 
fortunately, mediocrity succeeds often enough 
when transcendent genius fails. 



XX 

W. S. L. 

Walter Savage Landor, who was born in 1775, 
lived on hale and hearty till 1864. As he himself 
wrote : — 

" I warm'd both hands before the fire of life ; 
It sinks, and I am ready to depart." 

He was, as we have seen, the very good friend 
of both D'Orsayand Lady Blessington, whom he 
first met when he was living in Italy. 

In a letter to Lady Blessington, in 1837, 
Landor presented her with his autobiography in 
brief : — 

''Walter Landor, of Ipsley Court, in the 
county of Warwick, married first, Maria, only 
daughter and heiress of J. Wright, Esq., by 
whom he had an only daughter, married to her 
cousin, Humphrey Arden, Esq., of Longcroft, 
in Staffordshire ; secondly, Elizabeth, eldest 
daughter and co-heiress of Charles Savage, of 
Tachebrooke, who brought about eighty thousand 
pounds into the family. The eldest son of this 
marriage, Walter Savage Landor, was born 30th 
January 1775. He was educated at Rugby — 
his private tutor was Dr Heath, of St Paul's. 
When he had reached the head of the school, he 
was too young for college, and was placed under 
the private tuition of Mr Langley of Ashbourne. 
After a year, he was entered at Trinity College, 

216 



W. S. L. 2 i7 

Oxford, where the learned Beonwell was his 
private tutor. At the peace of Amiens, he went 
to France, but returned at the end of the year. 

"In 1808, on the first insurrection of Spain, 
in June he joined the Viceroy of Gallicia, Blake. 
The Madrid Gazette of August mentions a 
gift from him of twenty thousand reals. On the 
extinction of the Constitution, he returned to Don 
P. Cavallos the tokens of royal approbation, in no 
very measured terms. In 181 1, he married Julia, 
daughter of J. Thuillier de Malaperte, descendant 
and representative of J. Thuillier de Malaperte, 
Baron de Nieuveville, first gentleman of the bed- 
chamber to Charles the Eighth. He was residing 
at Tours, when, after the battle of Waterloo, 
many other Englishmen, to the number of four 
thousand, went away. He wrote to Carnot that 
he had no confidence in the moderation or honour 
of the Emperor, but resolved to stay, because he 
considered the danger to be greater in the midst 
of a broken army. A week afterwards, when this 
wretch occupied Tours, his house was the only 
one without a billet. In the autumn of that year, 
he retired to Italy. For seven or eight years, he 
occupied the Palazzo Medici, in Florence, and 
then bought the celebrated villa of Count 
Gherardesea, at Fiesole, with its gardens, and 
two farms, immediately under the ancient villa of 
Lorenzo de Medici. His visits to England have 
been few and short." 

This is but the bare bones of a very 
interesting life ; but its very bluntness seems to 
illustrate the character of its writer, a member of 
the genus irritabile, whom many hated, many 



218 D'Orsay 

loved and most men admired. For several years 
he made his home at Bath, living there from 
1838 to 1858, when again he retired to Italy, 
where he died at Florence. 

He is, perhaps, best known to the world at 
large under the slight disguise of Lawrence 
Boy thorn in Bleak House. 

Charles Sumner describes him thus in 1838 : — 
" Dressed in a heavy frock-coat of snuff colour, 
trousers of the same colour, and boots . . . with 
an open countenance, firm and decided, and a 
head grey and inclining to baldness . . . con- 
versation . . . not varied, but it was animated 
and energetic in the extreme. We crossed each 
other several times ; he called Napoleon the 
weakest, littlest man in history." 

Forster's account is more vivid : — 

"He was not above the middle stature, but had 
a short stalwart presence, walked without a stoop, 
and in his general aspect, particularly the set and 
carriage of his head, was decidedly of what is 
called a distinguished bearing. His hair was 
already silvered grey, and had retired far upward 
from his forehead, which wide and full but 
retreating, could never in the earlier time have 
been seen to such advantage. What at first was 
noticeable, however, in the broad white massive 
head, were the full yet strangely-lifted eyebrows. 
In the large, grey eyes there was a depth of 
compound expression that ever startled by its 
contrast to the eager restlessness looking out 
from the surface of them ; and in the same variety 
and quickness of transition the mouth was 
extremely striking. The lips, that seemed com- 



W. S. L. 219 

pressed with unalterable will would in a moment 
relax to a softness more than feminine ; and a 
sweeter smile it was impossible to conceive." 

Carlyle says that "he was really stirring com- 
pany ; a proud, irascible, trenchant, yet generous, 
veracious and very dignified old man ; quite a 
ducal or royal man in the temper of him." 

He was very frequently at Gore House, and 
they must have made a curious trio, the fascinat- 
ing Lady Blessington, the ducal Landor and 
dandy D'Orsay. 

He addressed these lines to her : — 

" What language, let me think, is meet 
For you, well called the Marguerite. 
The Tuscan has too weak a tone, 
Too rough and rigid is our own ; 
The Latin — no — it will not do, 
The Attic is alone for you." 

Of some of his many visits here are a few 
notes : — 

Writing Friday, 7th May 1841 : — 
" I did not leave my cab at Gore House gate 
until a quarter past six. My kind hostess and 
D'Orsay were walking in the garden and never 
was more cordial reception. After dinner we 
went to the English opera, The Siege of Rochelle 
and A Day at Turin. Nothing could be worse 
than the first except the second. The Hanoverian 
minister, very attentive to Miss Power, a Carlist 
viscount, and Lord Pembroke were the only 
persons who stayed any time in the box," and on 
8th May he writes again from Gore House : " We 
went this evening to the German Opera. Never 
was music so excellent. The pieces were A 
Night in Grenada and Fidelio. Madame Schodel 



220 DOrsay 

sings divinely, and her acting is only inferior to 
Pasta's. . . . Both D'Orsay and Lord Pembroke 
were enchanted with Madame Schodel, and Lady 
B. and Miss Power, both good judges, and the 
latter a fine composer, were breathless. To-night 
we go to the Italian Opera." 

Landor Writing from Gore House in June 1842 : 

" We have not been to the Opera this evening, 
as Lord Pembroke and the Due de Guiche came 
to dinner. He is on a visit to Lord Tankerville, 
but has the good taste to prefer the society he 
finds here, particularly D'Orsay's. D'Orsay was 
never in higher spirits or finer plumage." 

On July 20th he writes : — 

"A few days after my arrival in town, the 
Due de Grammont dined at Gore House. He is 
on a visit to Lord Tankerville. . . . D'Orsay has 
just finished an exquisite painting of the Duchesse." 

Then on September 7th : — 

" I arrived at Gore House early on Monday. 
In the morning, beside Lord Allen and some 
other people, there called Lord Auckland. . . . 
At dinner the Due de Guiche, Sir Francis Burdett 
and Sir Willoughby Cotton. . . . Those were 
bright hours ; even my presence could not 
interrupt their brilliancy. . . . The Due de 
Guiche left us this morning to shoot with his 
cousin, Lord Ossulton.* We miss the liveliness 
of his conversation — he talked Memoirs." 

When he was not at Gore House he kept up 
a very lively correspondence with his two friends, 
some of which it will be useful to quote, for in 
familiar letters we become almost on speaking 

* Son of Lord Tankerville. 



W. S. L. 

terms with their writers, and who of us would not 
be glad to chat with Lady Blessington, Landor 
and D'Orsay ? 

This from her to him, when sending him her 
portrait : — 

" I send you the engraving, and have only 
to wish that it may sometimes remind you of the 
original. You are associated in my memory with 
some of my happiest days ; you were the friend, 
and the highly-valued friend, of my dear and 
lamented husband, and as such, even without 
any of the numberless claims you have to my 
regard, you could not be otherwise than highly 
esteemed! It appears to me that I have not quite 
lost him, who made life dear to me, when I am 
near those he loved * and that knew how to value 
him. Five fleeting years have gone by since our 
delicious evenings on the lovely Arno, evenings 
never to be forgotten, and the recollections of 
which ought to cement the friendships then 
formed. This effect I can, in truth, say has been 
produced on me, and I look forward, with con- 
fidence, to keeping alive, by a frequent corre- 
spondence, the friendship you owe me, no less 
for that I feel for you, but as the widow of one 
you loved, and that truly loved you. We, or 
more properly speaking I, live in a world where 
friendship is little known, and were it not for one 
or two individuals like yourself, I might be 
tempted to exclaim with Socrates : ' My friends, 
there are no friends.' Let us prove that the 
philosopher was wrong, and if Fate has denied 
us the comfort of meeting, let us by letters keep 

* Did he love D'Orsay ? 



222 D'Orsay 

up our friendly intercourse. You will tell me 
what you think and feel in your Tuscan retire- 
ment, and I will tell you what I do, in this 
modern Babylon, where thinking and feeling are 
almost unknown. Have I not reason to com- 
plain that in your sojourn in London you do not 
give me a single day ? And yet methinks you 
promised to stay a week, and that of that week I 
should have my share. I rely on your promise 
of coming to see me again before you leave 
London, and I console myself for the disappoint- 
ment of seeing so little of you, by recollecting the 
welcome and the happiness that await you at 
home. Long may you enjoy it, is the sincere 
wish of your attached friend, M. Blessington." 

He to her, in the shape of " bits " out of a long- 
letter written from Florence in March 1835 : — 

" Poor Charles Lamb, what a tender, good, 
joyous heart had he ! What playfulness ! what 
purity of style and thought ! His sister is yet 
living, much older than himself. One of her tales 
is, with the sole exception of the Bride of 
Lammermoor, the most beautiful tale in prose 
composition in any language, ancient or modern. 
A young girl has lost her mother, the father 
marries again, and marries a friend of his former 
wife. The child is ill reconciled to it, but being 
dressed in new clothes for the marriage, she runs 
up to her mother's chamber, filled with the idea 
how happy that dear mother would be at seeing 
her in all her glory — not reflecting, poor soul, 
that it was only by her mother's death that she 
appeared in it. How natural, how novel is all 



W. S. L. ^3 

this ! Did you ever imagine that a fresh source 
of the pathetic would burst forth before us in this 
trodden and hardened world ? I never did, and 
when I found myself upon it, I pressed my temples 
with both hands, and tears ran down to my elbows. 

" The Opium-eater calls Coleridge ' the largest 
and most spacious intellect, the subtlest and most 
comprehensive that has yet existed among men.' 
Impiety to Shakespeare! treason to Milton! I 
give up the rest, even Bacon. Certainly, since 
their day, we have seen nothing at all comparable 
to him. Byron and Scott were but as gun-flints 
to a granite mountain ; Wordsworth has one angle 
of resemblance ; Southey has written more, and 
all well, much admirably. . . . 

" Let me add a few verses as usual : — 

' Pleasures — away, they please no more : 
Friends — are they what they were before ? 
Loves — they are very idle things, 
The best about them are their wings. 
The dance — 'tis what the bear can do ; 
Music — I hate your music too. 
Whene'er these witnesses that time 
Hath snatch'd the chaplet from our prime 
And called by nature (as we go 
With eyes more wary, step more slow), 
And will be heard, and noted down, 
However we may fret or frown ; 
Shall we desire to leave the scene 
Where all our former joys have been ? 
No ! 'twere ungrateful and unwise : 
But when die down our charities 
For human weal and human woes, 
'Tis then the hour our days should close.'" 

And this : — 

" D'Orsay's mind is always active. I wish it 
would put his pen in motion. At this season of the 
year (January) I fancied he was at Melton. Does 



224 D'Orsay 

not he lament that this bitter frost allows him no 
chance of breaking - his neck over gates and double 
hedges ? Pray offer him my kind remembrances." 
And here a chatty little note from D'Orsay : — 
" It is a fact, that my brave nephew has been 
acting the part of Adonis, with a sacri cochon, 
who nearly opened his leg ; * his presence of 
mind was great, he was on his lame leg in time 
to receive the second attack of the infuriated beast, 
and killed him on the spot, plunging a couteau de 
chasse through his heart — luckily the wild boar 
had one. The romantic scene would have been 
complete, if there had been another Gabrielle de 
Vergy looking at this modern Raoul de Courcy. 
We think and speak of you often, and are in 
hopes that you will pay us a visit soon. Poor 
Forster is ill and miserable at the loss of his 
brother. I am sure that Forster is one of the 
best, honestest and kindest men that ever lived. 
I had yesterday a letter from Eugene Sue, who 
is in raptures with Macready as an actor and as 
a man. We saw lately that good, warm-hearted 
Dickens — he spoke of you very affectionately. . . . 
— Most affectionately, D'Orsay." 

* The Duke de Guiche, son of D'Orsay's sister, had been 
attacked by a wild boar while out hunting. 



XXI 

THE ARTIST 

It behoves us now to pay some attention to 

D'Orsay's claims as an artist ; if he had posed 

simply as an amateur, silence would be possible, 

but he worked for money, entered the lists with 

other artists, and therefore laid himself open to 

judgment. In his own day he was highly thought 

of by many — here we have what was written of 

him in La Presse on November ioth, 1850, when 

D'Orsay's bust of Lamartine was exhibited : — 

" M. le comte d'Orsay est un amateur de l'art 

plutot qu'un artiste. Mais qu'est-ce qu'un amateur ? 

C'est un volontaire parmi les artistes ; ce sont 

souvent les volontaires qui font les coup d'^clat 

dans l'atelier comme sur les champs de bataille. 

Quest ce qu'un amateur ? C'est un artiste dont 

le ge'nie seul fait la vocation. II est vrai qu'il ne 

recoit pas dans son enfance et pendant les. 

premieres annees de sa vie cette Education du 

metier d'ou sort Michel Ange, d'ou sort Raphael 

. . . mais s'il doit moins au maitre, il doit plus a. 

la nature. II est son ceuvre. ... M. d'Orsay 

exerca dans les salons de Paris et de Londres la 

dictature Ath^nienne du gout et de l'&egance. 

C'est un de ces hommes qu'on aurait cru pr^occupe 

de succes futiles, — parce que la nature semble les 

avoir creds uniquement pour son plaisir — mais qui 

trompent la nature, et qui, apres avoir recueilli les 

l^geres admirations des jeunes gens et des femmes 

de leur age, ^chappent a cette atmosphere de 
p 225 



226 D'Orsay 

legeret^ avant le temps ou ils laissent ses idoles 
dans le vide, et se transforment par l'etude et par 
le travail en hommes nouveaux, en hommes de 
me>ite acquis et serieux. M. d'Orsay a habits 
longtemps l'Angleterre ou il donnait l'exemple et 
le ton a cette societe aristocratique, un peu raide 
et deforme, qui admire surtout ce qui lui manque, 
la grace et l'abandon des manieres. . . . 

" Des cet epoque, il commenca a jouer avec 
l'argile, le marbre, le ciseau, lie par un attache- 
ment devenu une parente d'esprit, avec une des 
plus belles et des plus splendides femmes de son 
epoque, il fit son buste pendant quelle vivait ; il 
le fit ideal et plus touchant apres sa mort. II 
moula en formes apres, rudes, sauvages, de gran- 
deur fruste, les traits paysanesque d'O'Connell. 
Ces bustes furent a l'instant vulgarises en 
milliers d'exemplaires en Angleterre et a Paris. 
C'etaint des creations neuves. . . . 

" Ces premiers succes furent des plus com- 
plets. II cherchait un visage. II en trouva 
un. Lord Byron, dont il fut l'ami et avec lequel 
il voyagea pendant deux ans* en Italie, n'etait 
plus qu'un souvenir aim£ dans son cceur. ... II fit 
le buste de Lamartine, ..." and then there is 
something approaching very closely to a rhapsody 
on this work of art, and then a set of verses by 
Lamartine himself! 

Debt drove D'Orsay to seek in art a means of 
adding to his income ; in the case of Mr. Mitchell 
of Bond Street, who published a series of portrait 
drawings, it is even possible that he used his art 
to cancel his debt for Opera boxes, etc. ! These 

* The inaccuracies here are obvious. 



The Artist 227 

portraits were 14 inches high and 10J inches wide 
and were sold at 5s. each. The set must have 
been almost a pictorial " Who's Who," and among 
those honoured with inclusion may be named 
Byron, Disraeli, Theodore Hook, Carlyle, Liszt, 
D'Orsay himself, the Duke of Wellington, Greville, 
Louis Napoleon, Bulwer Lytton, Trelawney, 
Landor, Dickens, Lady Blessington, Henry 
Bulwer, Captain Marryat and Sir Edwin Landseer. 

Richard James Lane, the engraver and litho- 
grapher, saw much of D'Orsay, and judging by 
the following letter held him in esteem : — 

"Asa patron, his kind consideration for my 
interest, and prompt fulfilment of every engage- 
ment, never failed me for the more than twenty 
years of my association with him ; and the friend- 
ship that arose out of our intercourse (and which 
I attest with gratitude) proceeded at a steady 
pace, without the smallest check, during the 
same period ; and remained unbroken, when on 
his final departure from England, he continued to 
give me such evidence of the constancy of his 
regard, as will be found conveyed in his letters. 

"In the sketches of the celebrities of Lady 
Blessington's salons, which he brought to me 
(amounting to some hundred and fifty, or more), 
there was generally an appropriate expression and 
character, that I found difficult to retain in the 
process of elaboration ; and although I may have 
improved upon them in the qualities for which I 
was trained, I often found that the final touches of 
his own hand alone made the work satisfactory. 

" Of the amount and character of the assist- 
ance of which the Count availed himself, in the 



228 D'Orsay 

production of his pictures and models, I have a 
clear notion. . . . 

"When a gentleman would rush into the 
practice of that which, in its mechanism, demands 
experience and instruction, he avails himself of the 
help of a craftsman, whose services are sought for 
painting-in the subordinate parts, and working 
out his rude beginnings. In the first rank of art, 
at this day, are others who, like the Count d'Orsay, 
have been unprepared, excepting by the posses- 
sion of taste and genius, for the practice of art, 
and whose merits are in no way obscured by the 
assistance which they also freely seek in the 
manipulation of their works ; and it is no less 
easy to detect, in the pictures of the Count, the 
precise amount of mechanical aid which he has 
received from another hand, than the graces of 
character and feeling that are superadded by his 
own. I have seen a rough model, executed 
entirely by himself, of such extraordinary power 
and simplicity of design, that I begged him to 
have it moulded, and not to proceed to the details 
of the work, until he could first place this model 
side by side with the cast in clay, to be worked 
up. He took my advice, and his equestrian statue 
of the first Napoleon may fairly justify my opinion. 

" In art, he had a heartfelt sympathy, a search- 
ing eye, and a critical taste, fostered by habitual 
intercourse with some of our first artists." 

This letter from D'Orsay to Lane shows the 
Count in an amiable light : — 

"Paris, 21st February 1850. 

11 My Dear Lane, — I cannot really express to 
you the extent of my sorrow about your dear and 



The Artist 229 

good family. You know that my heart is quite 
open to sympathy with the sorrows of others. 
But judge therefore, how it must be, when so 
great a calamity strikes a family like yours, which 
family I always considered one of the best I ever 
had the good fortune to know. What a trial for 
dear Mrs Lane, after so many cares, losing a son 
like yours, just at the moment that he was to 
derive the benefit of the good education you gave 
him. . . . There is no consolation to offer. The 
only one that I can imagine, is to think continu- 
ally of the person lost, and to make oneself more 
miserable by thinking. It is, morally speaking, 
an homoeopathic treatment, and the only one which 
can give some relief. . . . Give my most affectionate 
regards to your dear family, and believe me always 
— far or near. Your sincere friend, D'Orsay." 

In 1843 D'Orsay writes jestingly of himself : " I 
am poetising, modelling, etc., etc. In fact, I begin 
to believe that I am a Michael Angelo manqud." 

Concerning the Wellington statuette, D'Orsay 
writes to Madden : " You must have seen by the 
newspapers that I have completed a great work, 
which creates a revolution in the Duke of Well- 
ington's own mind, and that of his family. It is 
a statuette on horseback of himself, in the costume 
and at the age of the Peninsular war. They say 
that it will be a fortune for me, as every regiment 
in the service will have one, as the Duke says 
publicly, that it is the only work by which he 
desires to be known, physically, by portraits. 
They say that he is very popular in Portugal 
and Spain. I thought possibly that you could 



230 D'Orsay 

sell for me the copyright at Lisbon, to some 
speculator to whom I could send the mould." 

Shortly before his death he completed a smaller 
equestrian statuette of the Duke, an account of 
which was given in the Morning Chronicle of 
23rd December 1852 : — 

" One of the last of the late lamented Count 
d'Orsay's studies was a statuette of the Duke on 
horseback, the first copy of which, in bronze, was 
carefully retouched and polished by the artist. The 
work is remarkable for itsmingledgrace and spright- 
liness. The Duke, sitting firmly back in his saddle, 
is reining in a pawing charger, charmingly modelled, 
and a peculiar effect is obtained by the rider divid- 
ing the reins, and stretching that on the left side 
completely back over the thigh. The portrait is 
good, particularly that of the full face, and very 
carefully finished, and the costume is a character- 
istic closely-fitting military undress, with hanging 
cavalry sabre. Altogether, indeed, the statuette 
forms a most agreeable memorial, not only of the 
Duke, but, in some degree, of the gifted artist." 

Henry Vizetelly roundly states that there was 
no secrecy about the help rendered to D'Orsay in 
his equestrian statuettes, etc., by T. H. Nicholson, 
a draughtsman of horses, and that the faces of 
these works of art were modelled by Behnes. He 
goes on to say: "The statuette of the Duke 
of Wellington on horseback was undoubtedly 
Nicholson's, and that famous bust of the Iron 
Duke which was to make the fortune of the lucky 
manufacturer who reproduced it in porcelain, is 
said to have been his and Behnes' joint work." 
Then follows this amusing story : — 



The Artist 231 

"Sir Henry Cole — Old King Cole of the 
Brompton toilers,* and Felix Flummery of the 
art-manufacture craze — used to tell an amusing- 
story of the high estimate, artistic and pecuniary, 
which D'Orsay set upon this production. The 
Count had written to ask him to call at Gore 
House, and on his proceeding there, after handing 
his card through the wicket, he was cautiously 
admitted to the grounds and safely piloted between 
two enormous mastiffs to the door of the house. 
He was then conducted to the Count, whom he 
found pacing up and down Lady Blessington's 
drawing-room in a gorgeous dressing-gown. 

" D'Orsay, Cole used to say, at once broke out 
with — ' You are a friend of Mr Minton's ! I can 
make his fortune for him ! ' Then turning to his 
servant, ' Francois,' said he, 'go to my studio and 
in the corner you will find a bust. Cover it over 
with your handkerchief and bring it carefully here.' 
Francois soon returned carrying his burthen as 
tenderly as though it were a baby, and when he 
had deposited it on the table, the Count removed 
the handkerchief and posing before the bust with 
looks of rapt admiration, he promptly asked Cole — 

" ' What do you think of that ? ' 

" ' It's a close likeness,' Cole cautiously replied. 

14 ' Likeness ! indeed it is a likeness ! ' shouted 
the Count, ' why, Douro when he saw it exclaimed : 
" D'Orsay, you quite appal me with the likeness to 
my father ! " ' 

"The Count then confided to Cole that the 
Duke had given him four sittings, after refusing, 
said he, a single sitting to ' that fellow Landseer.* 

* Now (1910) no more. 



232 D'Orsay 

14 The Duke it seems came to inspect the bust 
after it was completed. In D'Orsay's biassed eyes 
he was as great in art as he was in war, and he 
always went, the Count maintained, straight up 
to the finest thing in the room to look at it. 
Naturally, therefore, he at once marched up to 
the bust, paused, and shouted : — 

" ' " By God, D'Orsay, you have done what 
those damned busters never could do." ' 

"The puff preliminary over, the Count next 
proceeded to business. 

" ' The old Duke will not live for ever,' he 
sagely remarked ; * he must die one of these days. 
Now, what I want you to do is to advise your 
friend Minton to make ten thousand copies of 
that bust, to pack them up in his warehouse and 
on the day of the Duke's death to flood the country 
with them, and heigh presto ! his fortune is made.' 

" The Count hinted that he expected a trifle 
of ;£ 10,000 for his copyright, but Cole's friend, 
Minton, did not quite see this, and proposed a 
royalty upon every copy sold. D'Orsay, who 
was painfully hard up for ready cash, indignantly 
spurned the offer. ..." 

D'Orsay is most generally known as an artist 
oy reason of his large portrait of the Duke of 
Wellington now in the National Portrait Gallery, 
upon the completion of which the Duke is said to 
have shaken hands with the painter, saying : "At 
last I have been painted like a gentleman! I'll 
never sit to anyone else." And he certainly did 
write to Lady Blessington : — " You are quite 
right. Count d'Orsay's work is of a higher 
description of art than is described by the word 



The Artist 233 

portrait! But I described it by that word, because 
the likeness is so remarkably good, and so well 
executed as a painting, and that this is the truest 
of all artistic ability, truest of all in this country." 
Which last sentence is rather enigmatical. 

Anent the statuette of O'Connell, referred to 
already, may be quoted a letter written by D'Orsay 
on 1 6th March 1847 to J onn Forster : — 

" Prince Napoleon told me to-night at the 
French play, that he read in an evening paper, 
the Globe, I think, an article copied from an Irish 
paper, stating that I had made a statuette of 
O'Connell, and praising it, etc. I suppose that it 
is from Osborne Bernal,* who is in Ireland. But 
I would be glad it were known that I have associ- 
ated him in the composition with the Catholic 
Emancipation, and also that I intend to make a 
present of the copyright to Ireland, for the benefit 
of the subscription for the poor." 

Of other works from his hand we may name 
the bust of Emile de Girardin, a portrait of Sir 
Robert Peel, and the picture of which some details 
have already been given, showing a group in the 
garden of Gore House. 

We have already quoted an account of one 
visit paid by D'Orsay to Haydon, here is that of 
a second, from an entry in the painter's Diary, 
dated 31st June 1838 : — 

" About seven, D'Orsay called, whom I had 
not seen for long. He was much improved, and 
looking the glass of fashion and the mould of 
form ; really a complete Adonis, not made up at 
all. He made some capital remarks, all of which 

* Better known to us now as Bernal Osborne. 



234 D'Orsay 

must be attended to. They were sound impressions, 
and grand. He bounded into his cab, and drove 
off like a young Apollo, with a fiery Pegasus. I 
looked after him. I like to see such specimens." 

In conclusion on this subject, from the New 
Monthly Magazine of August 1845, this : — 

" Whatever Count d'Orsay undertakes, seems 
invariably to be well done. As the arbiter ele- 
gantiatum he has reigned supreme in matters of 
taste and fashion, confirming the attempts of others 
by his approbation, or gratifying them by his 
example. To dress, or drive, to shine in the gay 
world like Count d'Orsay was once the ambition 
of the youth of England, who then discovered in 
this model no higher attributes. But if time, who 
' steals our years away,' steals also our pleasures, 
he replaces them with others, or substitutes a 
better thing ; and thus it has befallen with Count 
d'Orsay. 

"If the gay equipage, or the well-apparelled 
man be less frequently seen than formerly, that 
which causes more lasting satisfaction, and leaves 
an impression of a far more exalted nature, comes 
day by day into higher relief, awakening only the 
regret that it should have been concealed so long. 
When we see what Count d'Orsay s productions 
are, we are tempted to ask, with Malvolio's feigned 
correspondent, ' Why were these things hid ? ' ' 

All things considered we may write down 
Count d'Orsay as a quite first-rate amateur, as 
skilful in the arts as any dandy has ever been. 
What more fitting than that his skill and accom- 
plishment were best shown in his bust of Lady 
Blessington ? 




Lady Blessington 

{From the Bust by D'Orsay) 



[TO face I'At.v: 234 



XXII 

LETTERS 

D'Orsay, had he devoted his time and his mind 
to the matter, could doubtless have attained high 
eminence as a painter and sculptor, but he was 
wise and refused to be bitten by the temptation ; 
he well knew that there are many artists, but few 
dandies. The gifts that other men would have 
cultivated exclusively, he used to heighten and 
perfect his genius as a master of dandy ship. It is 
perhaps the highest attribute of genius to be able 
to recognise genius — in oneself; only mediocre 
men are modest. Modesty is a sign of incom- 
petency or stupidity. 

Could D'Orsay have achieved greatness as a 
writer ? Byron thought very highly of the journal 
which, it will be remembered, D'Orsay wrote dur- 
ing his first visit to London, but we cannot accept 
this criticism as final, for the poet's literary judg- 
ment was often faulty. 

He is reputed to have been a contributor to 
some of the journals of the day and he was put 
forward as the "editor" of the translation published 
in London in 1847 of a French novel, Marie, 
Histoire d'une Jeune Fille. But other men have 
gained fame with as little regular literary baggage 
as the Count, literature in the form of familiar 
letters, written always, or almost always, without a 
thought that they would meet the public eye. Of 
casual letters we have a fair number of D'Orsay 's, 

235 



236 D'Orsay 

and some of them make quite pleasant reading. 
At any rate they are as good as those which are 
not written by dandies, which is saying much, for 
dandies have many important affairs to fill 
their time. They are chatty epistles, serve to 
shed a light upon their writer's character ; 
by his letters to his friends you may know the 
man. 

Here is a note from him to Landor, written in 
September 1828 : — 

1 I have received, dear Mr Landor, your 
letter. It has given us great pleasure. You 
ought to feel sure that we should particularly 
appreciate a letter from you, and it will appear 
that our intimacy in Florence counted for nothing 
with you if you doubt the pleasure that your 
news arouses in us. As soon as I have received 
the pictures I will carry out your commission 
carefully. I do wish you would come to Paris, 
for we have some fine things to show you, par- 
ticularly pictures. Apropos, I am sending you 
herewith the portrait of Prince Borghese, which I 
hope you will find to be a good likeness. . . . 
We talk and think often of you. It is really 
strange that you are in the odour of sanctity in 
this family, for it seems to me it is not exactly 
this sort of reputation you pique yourself on 
possessing. 

" Lady B. and all our ladies send you a 
thousand good wishes and I renew the assur- 
ance of the sincerity of mine. — Yours very 
affectionately, D'Orsay." 

" All our ladies," included Lady d'Orsay. 



Letters 237 

Then of a much later date, probably 1842 or 
1843:— 

" I think that Henry the Eighth was at 
Richmond-on-the-Hill when Anne Boleyn was 
beheaded. They say that he saw the flag which 
was erected in London as soon as her head fell. 
Therefore, as you make him staying at Epping 
Forest at that time, and as I am sure you have 
some good reasons for it, I will thank you to give 
them to me. 

"We regretted much not to have seen you at 
Bath, and I was on the moment to write to you, 
like Henry the Fourth did to the brave Crillon 
after the battle ! 

" ' Pends toi, brave Landor, nous avons 6t6 a 
Bath, et tu n'y etois pas — ' 

" You will be glad to hear that the second son 
of my sister has been received at the Ecole of St 
Cyr, after a ticklish examination. Hoping to see 
you soon, believe me, yours most affectionately, 

" D'Orsay." 

There is not very much of distinction, perhaps, 
in these two letters, but they serve to show the 
familiar friendship of the two men and also that 
the dandy studied his English History, at any 
rate as far as concerns the disposal of wives. 

With John Forster he kept up a fairly lively 
correspondence, some of the letters containing 
points of interest : — 

"Gore House, 25/V& October 1844. 
"It is really an age since you've been here. 
It's a poor joke! Where have you been? . . . 
Macready has sent me a Boston paper, in which I 



238 D'Orsay 

have read with great interest of his success. . . . 
I have not seen • De la Roche ' Maclise. Give 
him a thousand good wishes. 

" Eugene Sue gets better and better ; he leads 
you to his moral by somewhat perilous roads, but 
once you get there you find it pure and beautiful. 
The fecundity of his imagination surpasses all 
previous works ; the Jesuits are smashed up, the 
convents broken down and the workman raised 
upon their debris. Amen. — Yours ever, 

D'Orsay." 

Was it not to this practical Forster that D'Orsay 
wrote upon his project for establishing a means of 
communication between the guard and the engine- 
driver of a train? But the "sacre^s directeurs de 
rail road" would not adopt his idea because of 
their own ideas of economy. 

"P.M., 4M August 1845. 

" I am determined to follow up the directors 
until they take up my scheme, and if you will 
assist me" {i.e. by writing in the papers), "these 
continual accidents will establish a ' raw,' which we 
will tickle continually with cayenne pepper, and in 
the end they will take real steps to heal the 
wound. My idea is this, that they shall have a 
seat behind the last carriage of every train, just 
like the coachman's of a hansom cab. It would 
be in communication with the engine by a long 
cord passing along the whole length of the roof of 
the carriages ; on pulling the cord a hammer would 
strike a gong by the engine and would indicate 
that a halt must be made. ..." 

There was also to be an arrangement of lamps 



Letters 239 

and a cord — very similar to that now in use — for 
the benefit of travellers in trouble. Quite suffi- 
cient in all this to prove that a dandy need not be 
a fool. 

"Gore House, 25/// September 1845. 

" I am sorry to tell you that Lady Blessington 
a recu des nouvelles " (from here the letter is in 
French) ; " very alarming concerning the health of 
Lady Canterbury. There is no doubt she is 
gradually sinking, surrounded by those who choose 
to blind themselves to her condition. ... It 
will be best, I think, for you to tell our dear 
Dickens why for the moment we must abandon 
our plans. I should most willingly have gone 
with you to Knebworth, we will arrange to go 
there together when I can manage a day. ..." 
Knebworth was Lord Lytton's country seat. 

The letter continues, throwing a light upon 
the dark side of our comedy : — 

" Think of poor Lady Blessington losing in so 
short a time her niece, her little niece, her nephew, 
her brother-in-law, and her sister dying. . . ." 

Then again he returns to his railway scheme : — 

" I was just going to write to you from the 
country, where I have been some time, to tell you 

that Lady C and Lady Sophie de V 

went to Derby by rail ; they were in the last 
carriage of the train. One of the connections is 
broken, the carriage is tossed from right to left 
and left to right so violently, that the two unhappy 
people think they are lost, and wave their hand- 
kerchiefs out of the window. They call out ; no 
one sees them ; no one hears them, and happily 
they reach the station, not a moment too soon — 



240 D'Orsay 

the carriage could not have held out. You will 
see that a guard in such a case would have saved 
this ? Do you think we had better drop the 
subject or take it up again ? Au revoir, brave 
Forster." 

"Bournemouth, Hants, ^th September 1848. 

" We are in the most charming neighbourhood 
in the world, a kind of Wheemby Hill with the 
sea : it is three hours from Southampton. Come 
and see us ! You will be delighted, it is perfection 
for bathing, and the weather is superb ; it is the 
climax of summer. ..." 

Of Mathews' friendship with D'Orsay in Italy, 
an account has already been given ; the following 
letters show that it was continued on paper : — 

"17M November 1831. 

" My Dear Charles . . . I have lost my poor 
friend Blessington and my mother within two 
months ; they died in my arms, and when I think 
of them it is always their last moments that come 
to my mind. I would it were in other times, but 
that is difficult. . . ." 

The following from London : — 

" 1st September. 

" My Dear Charles ... I was the other 
day at Goodwood. . . . Since I learnt that you 
had taken the Adelphi I agreed with Lord 
Worcester that we would do all we could to 
interest society in your favour by thinking and 
talking about it. I understand that the first idea 
of Y (ates) * is to put you at a disadvantage, he 
himself will leave you, in order to make you feel 

* Frederick Henry Yates, actor and theatrical manager. Father 
of Edmund Yates. 



Letters 241 

that he is indispensable ; this season is a trial that 
he gives you, hoping that in case of a failure you 
will give everything up into his hands. No 
matter what happens you must remedy this. 
Reeves, also, goes to America. Mrs Honey is 
engaged elsewhere ; in short, most of the old 
names connected with the theatre are going. I 
therefore recommend you to make an arrangement 
with the proprietor of the Queen's Theatre, who 
would join his company with yours ; union gives 
strength, and thanks to your talents you will 
triumph completely over the trap which Y (ates) 
has set for you. The Queen's Theatre has been 
very successful this season ; to-day they have 
taken ^90 ; it is wonderful for the time of year. 
Chesterfield, Worcester and myself have a box 
there and we wish to have one at the Adelphi, 
and speaking this evening on the matter to Bond, 
he told me that he would be delighted to join his 
company with yours and then to close the Queen's 
Theatre. Think it over, see if you would not find 
it to your advantage, and let me know. — Your 
sincere friend, etc. D'Orsay." 

The Adelphi was opened by Yates and 
Mathews on 28th September 1835 ; the house 
was full, but the season was not satisfactory. 

The details of acting and stage production 
were not beneath D'Orsay 's notice : — 

" My Dear Charles, — I like your new piece 
very much, and you acted very well. You must 
ask the orchestra to accompany you a little less 
noisily, for the noise they made made it im- 
possible to follow a quarter of your Aria. You 
Q 



242 D'Orsay 

would do well, also, in my opinion, to cut out 
two verses of the Welsh song. Your French- 
woman is perfect ; it is the best that I have yet 
seen presented in an English theatre. Use your 
influence to make Oxberry wear a black wig, he 
will be the image of George Womb well,* he has 
the dress and the manner to perfection, and it 
will be a hit. Wombwell won't be annoyed, on 
the contrary. ... Au revoir, dear Charles. — 
Your affectionate, D'Orsay." 

The bright vivacity of the following letter to 
Dr Quin had best be left in its native French : — 

"8//z Aout 183 1, 
"Seamore Place, Mayfair. 

Cher et estimable Quin, — Reg6ne>ateur de 
rhumanite" souffrante ! Nouveau Prophete dont 
les disciples s'essoufflent a chanter les louanges, 
et qui finira par triompher comme la civilisation 
regnante ; comment se fait il que vous oubliez 
entierement votre disciple Alfred, n'attendez 
pas en vain l'arrivee d'un ange du ciel pour 
m'^clairer mais deroulez vos Papyrus pour y graver 
les progres de la marche gigantesque de cette 
methodus medendi, qui jointe a votre intelligence 
vous assure pour votre vieillesse un outrage de 
Lauriers dont l'epaisseur permettroit a peine que 
vous soyez encore plus eclaire" par le rayon de 
gloire que le Ciel dirigera sur vous — Maintenant 
que je vous ai dit ma facon de penser a votre 6gard, 
parlons de moi dans un style moins laconique. 

" Depuis mon arrivee dans ce pays il 6toit 
difficile de pouvoir donner un Fair Trial, a la 

* Probably the founder of the famous menagerie. 



Letters 243 

methode, £tant toujours oblige" a diner et boire 
un verre de vin, avec tous ceux qui ont soif. 
Ainsi je l'ai abandonne trop tot pour me 
gueVir, mais toujours a temps pour me p£n£trer 
que jusqu'a ce jour le genre de humain a vegete" 
au lieu de vivre — II faut done que je recommence 
malgre que je souffre moins ; rep^netrez vous de 
ma sante\ consultez vos oracles, et voyez a me 
reprendre en main comme vous l'aviez fait. Je 
suivrai ponctuellement vos airs, et vous aurez au 
moins la gloire d'avoir gue*ri une des trompettes de 
la renommde de la methode, et un ami sincere. 
Detaillez bien la maniere de prendre, les remedes, 
et prescrivez non pas en paraboles, mais dans 
votre style persuasif. . . . Adieu, brave Quin. 
Je vous serre la main non pas de toutes mes 
forces, mais de tout mon cceur. — Votre devoue 
et sincere ami, Alfred d'Orsay." 

Dr Quin was the first homoeopathic practitioner 
in England, and in his early days was denounced 
as a quack. He was endowed with an inex- 
haustible fund of good humour, was a wit and a 
master of repartee. In a postscript to another 
letter D'Orsay writes : — 

"You have, my friend, an unbearable mania, 
that of always defending the absent. Don't 
you know that there is a French proverb which 
says, ' Les absens ont toujours tort ? ' This 
fashion never goes out, and, the devil, you who are 
the ' pink of fashion,' you must be in the mode." 

Jekyll declared to Lady Blessington that he 
" was asked gravely if quinine was invented by 
Doctor Ouin ! " 



244 D'Orsay 

Here is a quaint little note to the Doctor : — 

"Gore House, Saturday. 
"My Dear Dr Quin— M. Pipelet (D'Orsay) 
requests that you will send him the letter about 

Mr you promised he should have. I 

suppose it is in vain to tell you we are going to 
the Opera to-night. Of course you have 999 im- 
patient patients who must see you every five 
minutes throughout the course of the day and 
night, and as many more friends who expect you 
to dinner. However, en passant, I venture to 
hint that we go with Mdme. Calabrella, so 
if you manage to kill off the maladies, and put 
the friends under the table in turn, we shall be 
delighted to see you ready and waiting, as Homer 
says in the fifth book of the Iliad, line forty-nine. 
/ Farewell, may you be happy whilst I — Sobs 

choke my utterance. Adieu." 



XXIII 

EXCHEQUER BONDS 

D'Orsay might have been a great artist and a 
great man of letters ; of his genius as a financier 
there is no doubt. He solved the question of 
how to obtain unlimited credit ; he paid such 
debts as he did cancel with money which legally 
was his, but which almost any other man would 
not have cared to touch. 

Lord Blessington is said, when he persuaded 
D'Orsay to abandon his career in the French 
army, to have undertaken to provide for the 
Count's future, and he fulfilled his promise at the 
expense of his daughter's happiness and of the 
family estates. 

In the return made of " The Annuities, Mort- 
gages, Judgments and other Debts, Legacies, 
Sums of Money, and Incumbrances, charged upon 
or affecting the Estates of the said Charles John, 
Earl of Blessington, at the Time of his Decease," 
we find that the mortgages and sums of money 
charged on D'Orsay's account from 1837 to 1845, 
amounted to the quite respectable sum of ^20, 184. 
In Blessington's will all his estates in Dublin, 
bringing in a rental of ;£ 13,322, 18s. 8d. were left 
to whichever of his daughters married D'Orsay. 

By the marriage settlement ^20,000 was to 
be paid to trustees, the Due de Guiche, and 
Robert Power, within twelve months of the 

245 



246 D'Orsay 

solemnisation, and a further £20,000 on Blessing- 
ton's decease ; the money to be invested in the 
funds, and the interest thereupon to be paid to 
D'Orsay during his life. 

As we have seen, the happy couple separated 
actually in 1831, legally in 1838. 

In 1834 an order was made by the Court of 
Chancery in Ireland, upon which was thrown the 
task of clearing up the mess made of his property 
by Blessington, granting D'Orsay an income of 
£500, and to his wife £450. 

How great that mess was, for which D'Orsay 
and his wife were partly to blame, will be seen 
from the following facts. The Countess had run 
up debts to the tune of ,£10,000, which sum, 
however, is scarcely worth mentioning beside 
that incurred by her husband. By the deed of 
separation between them, D'Orsay relinquished 
all his claims on the Blessington estates, in 
consideration — 

i. Of .£2467 of annuities granted by him 

being redeemed, which cost £"23,500. 
ii. In consideration of the sum of ,£55,000 
being paid to him, £13,000 of which 
was to be raised as soon as possible, and 
£42,000 within ten years. 
A grand total of money which all went in one 
way or another to pay off D'Orsay 's debts. 

As to the estate : the trustees were empowered 
by Act of Parliament to make sales to the amount 
of .£350,000 to pay off all encumbrances and 
claims. Thus ended the glory of the Blessington 
fortune ; thus often has it been in Ireland. 

D'Orsay found fortune and lost it ; he could 



Exchequer Bonds 247 

not even retain the wife with which it was 
encumbered. 

Over ,£100,000 of debts we know he paid, 
and still he owed very much. For at least two 
years previous to his final departure from England 
he went in constant dread of arrest at the instiga- 
tion of sordid persons, who had not sufficient 
understanding of the fact that it was an honour 
to them to help in the support of a great man. 
There are too many petty-minded people in the 
world ! Just heavens ! That a man of D'Orsay's 
calibre should be confined to his house and 
grounds all the days of the week save Sunday, 
excepting that he could creep forth under cover 
of darkness ! That the Prince of the Dandies 
should go in danger of the vile clutch of a sinister 
myrmidon of the law and of the degradation of 
a sponging-house. 

In 1845 D'Orsay apparently realised that his 
pecuniary condition was irreparable, and sought 
in vain for means of escape. He prepared a 
schedule of his liabilities, the total sum of his 
indebtedness amounting to ^107,000, not includ- 
ing a number of debts to private friends, 
which made an additional sum of ,£13,000. It 
was even contemplated that he should go 
through the Court of Bankruptcy, but a difficulty 
was found in the fact that it could not be 
proved that he was a commercial man or an 
agriculturalist. He only sowed wild oats. 

The situation so pressed upon him, that he 
allowed himself for a time to become the prey of. 
impostors, who declared that they had achieved 
what the alchemists of old had so long looked for 



248 D'Orsay 

in vain, the conversion of the baser metals into 
gold! 

From an unveracious chronicle we quote a 
passage which is veracious : — 

" Now, among the shyest birds that ever 
ducked from a missile of the law was, without an 
exception the Marquis d'Horsay (D'Orsay). 
His maxim had long been ' catch me who can ; ' 
at the same time, acting up to the patent-safety 
rule of 'prevention being so much better than 
cure,' he afforded no facilities whatever of being 
hobbled in the chase. At bay he kept the yelp- 
ing pack, and within the good, stout, rich walls of 
his covert he maintained both a pleasant and a 
secure retreat from the dangers besetting him. 
He now no longer ventured to frame himself, as 
it were, in his cab, and exhibit his colours and 
attractions to the curious crowds, except on that 
privileged day — when even the debtor is at liberty 
to rest — the seventh of the week.* Then, indeed, 
he issued forth, decked as of old, and, like a bird 
free from the confines of his cage, made the most 
of the brief hours of his freedom. 

" Every art, every manoeuvre within the subtle 
and almost inexhaustible resources of those apt 
functionaries of the law who are ever on the alert 
to deprive the subject of his liberty, let him be 
never so chary of the preservation of it, had been 
put in force to trap our hero ; but hitherto in 
vain. Mr Sloughman,f truly, arrived within a 
short journey of accomplishing this much-desired 
end ; still he was frustrated, and now among the 

* The first is meant. 

t Alias Sloman, a well-known catchpole 



Exchequer Bonds 249 

ranks of bums there was a cloud which damped 
their hopes and mildewed their energies. The 
Marquis was not to be grabbed, and they knew 
it. With flagging spirits the attempts were 
renewed over and over again. Bribes and offers 
of rewards were extended liberally to his menials 
for their traitorous assistance in obtaining the 
design, but they had been too well selected, and 
knew their own interests depended on no such 
frail or fleeting benefits. False messengers in all 
garbs and disguises, upon all kinds of errands and 
excuses, applied for admission and interviews. 
Even — yes, even the fair sex were at last made 
not bearers of Love's despatches, but conveyancers 
of stern writs, notices of declarations, trials, and 
suchlike means to the end and breaking up 
of a man of fashion. Still the Marquis was proof 
against all these attacks, let them come in what 
shape they would." 

That may be fancy, but it is close akin to fact. 

In The English Spy we read of the crowd 
in Hyde Park of a Sunday afternoon at the 
fashionable hour : — 

" The low-bred, vulgar, Sunday throng, 
Who dine at two, are ranged along 

On both sides of the way : 
With various views, these honest folk 
Descant on fashions, quiz and joke, 

Or march a shy cock* down ; 
For many a star in fashion's sphere 
Can only once a week appear 

In public haunts of town, 

Lest those two ever watchful friends, 
The .y^-brothers, whom sheriff sends, 

John Doe and Richard Roe, 

* A shy cock being a "Sunday" man, such as D'Orsay. 



250 D'Orsay 

A taking pair should deign to borrow, 
To wit, until All Souls the morrow, 

The body of a beau ; 
But Sunday sets the prisoner free, 
He shows the Park, and laughs with glee, 

At creditors and Bum." 

Henry Vizetelly used on occasion to make an 
early call upon Thackeray, and walk into town 
with him from Kensington. "On one of these 
journeys," he says, "soon after Lady Blessington 
gave up Gore House to reside in Paris, I re- 
member his taking me with him to look over the 
little crib, adjacent to the big mansion, where 
Count d'Orsay, Lady Blessington's recognised 
lover, was understood to have resided, with the 
view of saving appearances. For years past the 
ringleted and white-kidded Count, although his 
tailor and other obliging tradespeople dressed him 
for nothing, or rather, in consideration of the adver- 
tisement that his equivocal patronage procured for 
them, had been a self-constituted prisoner through 
dread of arrest for debt. It was only on Sundays 
that he ventured outside the Gore House grounds, 
and for his protection on other days the greatest 
possible precaution was exercised when it was 
necessary for any of Lady Blessington's many 
visitors to be admitted. D'Orsay 's friend, Thomas 
Slingsby Duncombe, who was mixed up with 
him in numerous bill transactions, used to say 
that the Count's debts amounted to ,£120,000, 
and that before he retired to the safe asylum 
of Gore House, he was literally mobbed by 
duns." 

Tom Duncombe describes Lady Blessington's 
parties as gay, "where all the men about town 



Exchequer Bonds 251 

assembled, and sunned themselves in her charms ; 
and where, for certain reasons, she was secure from 
the intrusion of rivals. There Count d'Orsay, 
tied by the leg with 1 20,000/. of debt, was sure 
to welcome his ' cher Tomie.'" 

"Cher Tomie " saw and knew much of D'Orsay, 
and did his best to help him in his money troubles. 
The following letters tell a tale of woe : — 

Saturday, 12th February 1842. 

" My Dear Tommy, — I know that you have 
been to C. Lewis, and that he told you it was 
settled. It is not so ; he expected that I would 
have signed the renewals at sixty per cent, which 
he sent me, and which I delivered. Therefore, 
if you have a moment to lose, have the kindness 
to see him this morning and persuade him of the 
impossibility of my renewing f at that rate ; say 
anything you like on the subject, but that is the 
moral of the tale. You must come and dine with 
us soon again. — Yours faithfully, 

" D'Orsay." 

Thursday, 6 th April 1842. 
" My Dear Tommy, — I see by the papers that 
Lord Campbell and Mr T. S. Duncombe received 
a petition against the Imprisonment for Debt ! 
It is the moment to immortalise yourself, and 
also the sweetest revenge against all our gang of 
Jews, if you succeed in carrying this petition 
through. I have taken proper means to keep 
this proposal alive in the Press. Will you come 
and dine with us ? — Yours affectionately, 

" D'Orsay." 



252 DOrsay 

This last may refer to the schedule above- 
mentioned : — 

" My Dear Tommy, — I send you this precious 
document ; the only one I could obtain. It is a 
flaring-up page of the History of the Nineteenth 
Century! God is great, and will be greater 
the day He will annihilate our persecutors. En 
attendant, I am always, — Your affectionate friend, 

" D'Orsay." 

The following refers again to the Imprison- 
ment Abolition Bill : — 

" Mon Cher Tommy, — I think that we ought 
to try to ascertain how far the humbugging 
system can go. As soon as I received your note 
this morning I wrote to Brougham, and explained 
all the unfructuous attempts of Mr Hawes.* I 
enclose the first answer. Now, he has just been 
here, after having had a long conversation with 
Lyndhurst, who is decided to spur the Solicitor- 
General, stating, as the Parliament will last until 
Thursday week, there will be time enough to 
pass the bill. See what you can do with Mr 
Hawes. I am sure that if he will strike the iron 
now, when it is hot, that we have still a chance. 
Lyndhurst, I assure you, is very anxious about it, 
and expressed it strongly to Brougham. Do not 
be discouraged. — Yours affectionately, 

"D'Orsay." 

The enclosed note from Brougham ran : — 

" Mon Cher A., — Je suis colork plutdt que 
de'sespe're'. II faut que je mette ordre a tout cela. 
Je vais chez Lyndhurst dans l'instant, H. B." 

* M.P. for South wark. 



Exchequer Bonds 253 

Tom Duncombe was himself a capital hand 
at getting into debt ; we read : — " Duncombe is 
playing good boy, having completely drawn in ; 
he has given up his house and carriages, and 
taken his name out of the Clubs. He had be- 
come so involved that he could not carry on the 
war any longer. They say that he has committed 
himself to the amount of 120,000/." 

Readers of Vanity Fair will recall " Mr 
Moss's mansion in Cursitor Street," "that dismal 
place of hospitality," to which Colonel Crawdon 
was an unwilling visitor. It was such an ordeal, 
that D'Orsay was determined not to undergo. 
Shame upon those who threatened him with it. 

Madden tells us that D'Orsay 's sister "makes 
no concealment of her conviction that Count 
d'Orsay's ignorance of the value of money — the 
profuse expenditure into which he was led by 
that ignorance, the temptation to play arising 
from it, the reckless extravagance into which he 
entered, not so much to minister to his own 
pleasure, as to gratify the feelings of an inordinate 
generosity of disposition, that prompted him to 
give whenever he was called on, and to forget 
the obligations he contracted for the sake of 
others, and the heavy penalties imposed on his 
friends by the frequent appeals for pecuniary 
assistance — were very grievous faults, and great 
defects in his character." 

Mice nibbling at the reputation of a lion ! 
Faults and defects ; it is so easy to see spots on 
the sun ! The world is often cruel to its greatest 
men ; and who can deny that D'Orsay was much 
ill-used ? Who can realise the suffering inflicted 



254 D'Orsay 

on his generous heart by the lack of generosity 
in others ? How absurd to insult his memory by 
calling " reckless extravagance " that which in 
ordinary men would be so, but which in him was 
the striving to fulfil his great destiny. If his 
spirit haunts the earth it must be torture, worse 
than any in the place to which he may have gone, 
to find that he should have been so greatly mis- 
understood. It is a lovable trait in a man that 
he should give to others of his superfluity ; it is 
adorable in D'Orsay that he should have distri- 
buted with open hand and tender heart the spare 
cash of others. Petty questionings as to right 
and wrong, meum et tuum, to which commonplace 
men rightly pay attention, have no claim upon 
such a man as D'Orsay. To the good all things 
are good. 

He had the tongue of the charmer. Mr 
Mitchell, to whom he owed much money, would 
in moments of despair, write and demand immedi- 
ate payment. In all his glory D'Orsay would 
answer in person ; would calm the tempest with 
fair words and would usually succeed in increas- 
ing his indebtedness. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

SUNDRY FESTIVITIES 

There cannot, indeed, be any question but that 
D'Orsay possessed the gift of fascination ; his 
personality was one that compelled both admira- 
tion and attention. It is impossible to define or 
describe wherein exactly lies this power of per- 
sonality. Of two women equally beautiful and 
apparently equally attractive, one will fascinate 
and the other will not, but it surpasses the ability 
of even those who are fascinated to say wherein 
is the difference between the two charmers. 

D'Orsay had charm, and for our part we 
believe that with him, at any rate, part of this 
charm lay in the fact that he did not grow old ; 
those whom the gods love die young despite the 
passage of years. He was young and he was 
gay ; and joyousness is singularly and strongly 
attractive in a world where the majority of men 
and women are apt to be unjoyous. Gaiety of 
spirits, and unconquerable, unquenchable joie de 
vivre, are treasures above all price because they 
cannot be purchased. 

Especially with those who make pleasure a 
pursuit, and it was with such that D'Orsay chiefly 
forgathered, the amusements of life too frequently 
become " stale, flat and unprofitable " ; such folk 
make pleasure the business of life, pleasure does 
not come to them naturally, spontaneously ; they 

255 



256 D'Orsay 

suffer from that most wearing of mental troubles, 
boredom. Far otherwise was it with D'Orsay. 
We have been with him now in many places and 
with many companies, and never once has there 
been a hint that he was either satiated with en- 
joyment or depressed when things went astray. 
He often said himself: " I have never known the 
meaning of the word ennui" 

Beneath all the tinsel and unreality of some of 
Disraeli's novels, there is always a stratum of 
keen observation and shrewd knowledge of men 
and women. It will help us, therefore, in our 
understanding of D'Orsay to see how he appeared 
to his friend and fellow-dandy. 

Disraeli sketched D'Orsay 's portrait as Count 
Alcibiades de Mirabel in Henrietta Temple : " The 
satin-lined coat thrown open . . . and revealing 
a breastplate of starched cambric . . . ," the 
wristbands were turned up with " compact pre- 
cision," and were fastened by "jewelled studs." 
" The Count Mirabel could talk at all times well. 
. . . Practised in the world, the Count Mirabel 
was nevertheless the child of impulse, though a 
native grace, and an intuitive knowledge of 
mankind, made every word pleasing and every 
act appropriate. . . . The Count Mirabel was 
gay, careless, generous. ... It seemed that the 
Count Mirabel's feelings grew daily more fresh, 
and his faculty of enjoyment more keen and relish- 
ing. ..." Into Count Mirabel's mouth is put 
this, which sounds very D'Orsayish : " Between 
ourselves, I do not understand what this being 
bored is," said the Count. " He who is bored 
appears to me a bore. To be bored supposes the 



Sundry Festivities 257 

inability of being amused. . . . Wherever I may- 
be, I thank heaven that I am always diverted." 
Then this : " I live to amuse myself, and I do 
nothing that does not amuse me." And this : 
" Fancy a man ever being in low spirits. Life is 
too short for such betises. The most unfortunate 
wretch alive calculates unconsciously that it is 
better to live than to die. Well then, he has 
something in his favour. Existence is a pleasure, 
and the greatest. The world cannot rob us of 
that, and if it be better to live than to die, it is 
better to live in a good humour than a bad one. 
If a man be convinced that existence is the 
greatest pleasure, his happiness may be increased 
by good fortune, but it will be essentially inde- 
pendent of it. He who feels that the greatest 
source of pleasure always remains to him, ought 
never to be miserable. The sun shines on 
all ; every man can go to sleep ; if you cannot 
ride a fine horse, it is something to look upon 
one ; if you have not a fine dinner, there is 
some amusement in a crust of bread and 
Gruyere. Feel slightly, think little, never 
plan, never brood. Everything depends upon 
the circulation ; take care of it. Take the 
world as you find it, enjoy everything. Vive la 
bagatelle ! " 

Then further on : — 

"The Count Mirabel was announced. . . . 

" The Count stood before him, the best-dressed 
man in London, fresh and gay as a bird, with 
not a care on his sparkling visage, and his eye 
bright with bonhomie. And yet Count Mirabel 
had been the very last to desert the recent 



258 D'Orsay 

mysteries of Mr Bond Sharpe ; * and, as usual, 
the dappled light of dawn had guided him to his 
luxurious bed — that bed that always afforded him 
serene slumbers, whatever might be the adven- 
tures of the day, or the result of the night's 
campaign. How the Count Mirabel did laugh 
at those poor devils, who wake only to moralise 
over their own folly with broken spirits and 
aching heads. Care, he knew nothing about ; 
Time, he defied ; indisposition he could not com- 
prehend, He had never been ill in his life, even 
for five minutes. 

" Melancholy was a farce in the presence of 
his smile ; and there was no possible combination 
of scrapes that could withstand his kind and 
brilliant raillery." 

Then to his friend, Armine, who is distrait : — 

"A melancholy man! Quelle bUise I I will 
cure you ; I will be your friend, and put you all 
right. Now we will just drive down to Rich- 
mond ; we will have a light dinner- — a flounder, 
a cutlet, and a bottle of champagne, and then we 
will go to the French play. I will introduce you 
to Jenny Vertpre\ She is full of wit ; perhaps 
she will ask us to supper. Allons, mon ami, mon 
cher Armine ; allons, mon brave ! " 

Could Armine resist a tempting invitation so 
irresistible ? No, " so, in a few moments, he was 
safely ensconced in the most perfect cabriolet in 
London, whirled along by a horse that stepped 
out with a proud consciousness of its master." 

We hold that portrait to be excellent not only 
as regards the outer but also the inner man 

* At Crockford's. 



Sundry Festivities 259 

D'Orsay. He was the "child of impulse," not a 
cold, cynical, calculating voluptuary ; he did not 
deliberately "feel slightly, think little"; it was 
not in him to suffer deep emotion or to think 
deeply. " Vive la bagatelle!'' that was his 
motto, because for him there was not in life any- 
thing else than "bagatelle" ; existence for him 
was compounded of "trifles light as air." His 
good spirits, as Disraeli hints, were based upon 
his splendid physical vitality as infectious good 
spirits must ever be. The joy of life may be 
apparent to and partially enjoyed by those whose 
physical health is weak, but complete realisation 
of the joy of living, of merely being alive, is only 
for those whose vitality is abundant and superb. 
Further, he had the faculty of enjoying himself ; 
it was not that he would not but that he could 
not be bored. 

Even children felt his fascination. Madden 
writes : — 

11 One of the proofs of the effect on others of 
his insinuating manners and prepossessing appear- 
ance, was the extreme affection and confidence he 
inspired in children, of whom he was very fond, 
but who usually seemed as if they were irresistibly 
drawn towards him, even before he attempted to 
win them. The shyest and most reserved were 
no more proof against this influence than the most 
confiding. Children who in general would hardly 
venture to look at a stranger, would steal to his 
side, take his hand, and seem to be quite happy 
and at ease when they were near him." 

Nor, as we have learned, was it merely the 
butterflies who found pleasure in his sunny nature ; 



260 D'Orsay 

he had a striking faculty of suiting himself to his 
company, an adaptability which is essential for 
success in general society. Landor loved him, so 
almost it may be said did the somewhat stern 
Macready. Indeed the actor was one of the most 
ardent of D'Orsay's admirers ; he wrote after his 
death : — 

" No one who knew and had affections could 
help loving him. When he liked he was most 
fascinating and captivating. It was impossible 
to be insensible to his graceful, frank and most 
affectionate manner. I have reason to believe 
that he liked me, perhaps much, and I certainly 
entertained the most affectionate regard for him. 
He was the most brilliant, graceful, endearing 
man I ever saw — humorous, witty and clear- 
headed. But the name of D'Orsay alone had a 
charm ; even in the most distant cities of the 
United States all inquired with interest about 
him." 

A few notes from Macready's Diary, and from 
records kept by others, will serve to confirm the 
testimony already adduced of the great variety 
and interest of the friends with whom D'Orsay 
was surrounded in the Gore House days. 

On February 16th, 1839, there was a pleasant 
company there, of which Macready makes this 
record : — 

"Went to Lady Blessington's with Forster, 
who had called in the course of the day. Met 
there the Count de Vigny, with whom I had a 
most interesting conversation on Richelieu. . . . 
Met also with D'Orsay, Bulwer, Charles Buller, 
Lord Durham, who was very cordial and courteous. 



Sundry Festivities 261 

to me, Captain Marryat, who wished to be rein- 
troduced to me, Hall, Standish, Chorley, Greville, 
who wished to be introduced to me also, Dr Ouin, 
etc. Passed a very agreeable two hours." 

With most of these we have already met on 
other occasions. On May 31st, 1840, Macready 
met at Gore House the Fonblanques, Lord 
Normanby, Lord Canterbury, Monckton Milnes, 
Chorley, Rubini and " Liszt, the most marvellous 
pianist I ever heard. I do not know when I have 
been so excited." And in April 1846, we hear of 
him dining at Gore House in the company of, 
amongst others, Liston, Quin, Chesterfield, Edwin 
Landseer, Forster, Jerdan and Dickens. 

And on the other hand many a time did 
D'Orsay dine with Macready to meet good 
company, but Lady Blessington was not and 
could not be included in the invitations. It is a 
feather in their caps for men to conquer beautiful 
ladies, but voe victis. On the evening of May 6th, 
1840, Planche" "was present at a very large and 
brilliant gathering at Gore House. Amongst the 
company were the Marquis of Normanby and 
several other noblemen, and, memorably, Edwin 
Landseer. During the previous week there had 
been a serious disturbance at the Opera, known as 
' The Tamburini Row,' and it naturally formed 
the chief subject of conversation in a party, nearly 
every one of whom had been present. Lord 
Normanby, Count d'Orsay, and Landseer were 
specially excited ; there was some difference of 
opinion, but no quarrelling, and the great animal 
painter was in high spirits and exceedingly amus- 
ing till the small hours of the morning, when we 



262 DOrsay 

all gaily separated, little dreaming of the horrible 
deed perhaps at that very moment perpetrating, 
the murder of Lord William Russell by his valet 
Courvoisier." 

Of James Robinson Planche\ herald and writer 
of extravaganzas and student of the history of 
costume, Edmund Yates gives a thumbnail 
sketch in later years : — 

" Such a pleasant little man, even in his extreme 
old age — he was over eighty at his death * — and 
always neatly dressed, showing his French origin 
in his vivacity and his constant gesticulation." 

The murder of Lord William Russell created 
an unpleasant sensation, though there was not 
anything mysterious in it, or particularly interest- 
ing to the amateur in crime. Francois Benjamin 
Courvoisier, a Swiss and Lord William's valet, 
two maid - servants aud Lord William, aged 
seventy-two, formed the household at the establish- 
ment in Norfolk Street, Park Lane. On the 
morning of 7th May, the housemaid found her 
master's writing-room in a state of disarray, and 
in the hall a cloak, an opera-glass and other 
articles of wearing apparel done up together as if 
prepared to be taken away. The maid roused 
Courvoisier, who exclaimed, when he came upon 
the scene : " Some one has been robbing us ; for 
God's sake go and see where his lordship is ! " 

They went together to Lord William's room, 
where a shocking sight presented itself, their 
master lying dead upon the bed, his head nearly 
severed from his body. The police were 
summoned, and money, banknotes, and some 

* In 1880. He was born in 1796. 



Sundry Festivities 263 

jewellery, believed to have been stolen from Lord 
William, being found concealed behind the skirt- 
ing in the pantry, Courvoisier was arrested, 
tried, condemned, and then acknowledged his 
crime. He was executed on 6th July, before an 
immense mob of men, women and children. 

Of another evening at Gore House Planch 6 
has this to relate of Lablache : — 

"It was after dinner at Gore House that I 
witnessed his extraordinary representation of a 
thunderstorm simply by facial expression. The 
gloom that gradually overspread his countenance 
appeared to deepen into actual darkness, and the 
terrific frown indicated the angry lowering of the 
tempest. The lightning commenced by winks of 
the eyes, and twitchings of the muscles of the 
face, succeeded by rapid sidelong movements of 
the mouth which wonderfully recalled to you the 
forked flashes that seem to rend the sky, the 
motion of thunder being conveyed by the shaking 
of his head. By degrees the lightning became 
less vivid, the frown relaxed, the gloom departed, 
and a broad smile illuminating his expansive face 
assured you that the sun had broken through the 
clouds and the storm was over." 

Another house to which D'Orsay frequently 
went was that of Charles Dickens, and we read 
of in 1845 an entertainment which no doubt was 
a festive jollification. In September of that year 
an amateur performance, with Dickens at the head 
of the troupe, was given of Every Man in His 
Humour, at Miss Kelly's Theatre, in Dean Street, 
Soho, now known as the Royalty. After the 
"show" it was decided to wind up with a 



264 D'Orsay 

supper, concerning which Dickens writes to 
Macready : — 

" At No. 9 Powis Place, Great Ormond Street, 
in an empty house belonging to one of the com- 
pany. There I am requested by my fellows to 
beg the favour of thy company and that of Mrs 
Macready. The guests are limited to the actors 
and their ladies — with the exception of yourselves 
and D'Orsay and George Cattermole, ' or so ' — 
that sounds like Bobadil a little." 

In the company were included Douglas 
Jerrold, John Leech and Forster. 

Referring to yet another dinner, Lady 
Blessington writes to Forster from Gore House, 
on 1 2th April 1848 : — 

" Count d'Orsay repeated to me this morning 
the kind things you said of him when proposing 
his health. He, I assure you, was touched when 
he repeated them, and his feelings were infectious, 
for mine responded. To be highly appreciated 
by those we most highly value, is, indeed, a source 
of heartfelt gratification. From the first year of 
our acquaintance with you, we had learned to 
admire your genius, to respect your principles, 
and to love your goodness of heart, and the 
honest warmth of your nature. These sentiments 
have never varied. Every year, by unfolding 
your noble qualities to us, has served to prove 
how true were our first impressions of you, and 
our sole regret has been that your occupations 
deprive us of enjoying half as much of your society 
as all who have once enjoyed it must desire. 
Count d'Orsay declares that yesterday was one 
of the happiest days of his life. He feels proud 



Sundry Festivities 265 

of having assisted at the triumph of a friend whose 
heart is as genial as his genius is great. Who 
can resist being delighted at the success of one 
who wins for himself thousands of friends (for all 
his readers become so), without ever creating an 
enemy, even among those most envious of an- 
other's fame, and simply by the revelations of a 
mind and heart that excite only the best feelings 
of our — nature ? I cannot resist telling you what 
is passing in my heart. You will understand this 
little outbreak of genuine feeling in the midst of 
the toil of a literary life." 

There were almost as many writers of genius 
then as now ! 

Forster and Dickens were together at Gore 
House early in 1848, when Madden tells us 
" there was a remarkable display of D'Orsay's 
peculiar ingenuity and successful tact in drawing 
out the oddities or absurdities of eccentric or 
ridiculous personages — mystifying them with a 
grave aspect, and imposing on their vanity by 
apparently accidental references of a gratulatory 
description to some favourite hobby or exploit, 
exaggerated merit or importance of the individual 
to be made sport of for the Philistines of the 
fashionable circle." Bear-baiting was succeeded 
in those polite days by bore-baiting. Anent this 
particular evening, one of those present wrote to 
Lady Blessington : — 

" Count d'Orsay may well speak of our even- 
ing being a happy one, to whose happiness he 
contributed so largely. It would be absurd, if 

one did not know it to be true, to hear D 

(Dickens ?) talk as he has done ever since of 



266 D'Orsay 

Count d'Orsay's power of drawing out always the 
best elements around him, and of miraculously 
putting out the worst. Certainly I never saw it 
so marvellously exhibited as on the night in 
question. I shall think of him hereafter un- 
ceasingly, with the two guests that sat on either 
side of him that night." 

It was but fitting that the Prince of Dandies 
and the future Poet Laureate should come to- 
gether. Tennyson writes : — " Count d'Orsay is 
a friend of mine, co-godfather to Dickens' child 
with me." This was Dickens' sixth child and 
fourth son, christened Alfred Tennyson after his 
godfathers. 

D'Orsay was not so unkind as to neglect his 
native country entirely, and we find him now and 
again running over to Paris. 

As pendants to the Disraeli portrait of D'Orsay, 
here are two others, one from a man's hand, the 
other from a woman's. 

Chesterfield House was the headquarters of a 
racing set, and was gossiped about as also the 
centre of some heavy gambling, probably untruly 
so. 

The Honourable F. Leveson Gore in Bygone 
Years expresses himself bluntly : " I used to wonder 
that Lady Chesterfield admitted into her house 
that good-for-nothing fellow, Count d'Orsay. He 
was handsome, clever and amusing, and I am 
aware that in the eyes of some people such 
qualities cover a multitude of sins. But his re- 
cord was a bad one. No Frenchman would speak 
to him because he had left the French army at 
the breaking out of the war between his own 



Sundry Festivities 267 

country and Spain, in order to go to Italy with 
Lord and Lady Blessington, and his conduct 
with regard to his marriage was infamous." How 
uncharitable is the judgment of a virtuous world. 
Reading on we find that the writer holds that 
Lady Blessington induced D'Orsay "entirely to 
neglect his young wife. She, moreover, en- 
deavoured to undermine her faith and her morals 
by getting her to read books calculated to do so, 
and what was still worse, she promoted the 
advances of other men, who made up to this 
inexperienced and beautiful young woman. Her 
life at Gore House * became at last so intolerable 
that she fled from it never to return." 

Mr Leveson Gore also calls Lady Harriet the 
only daughter of Lord Blessington, which is really 
not doing his lordship justice. 

It is much more helpful, however, to have the 
opinion of a keen, shrewd woman ; one who can- 
not have been disposed to like D'Orsay, yet who 
seems, as did her husband, to have a soft place 
in her heart for him. 

Jane Welsh Carlyle was a capital hand at a 
pen portrait ; here is what she has to say of 
D'Orsay : — 

"April 13, 1845. — To-day, oddly enough, 
while I was engaged in re-reading Carlyle's 
Philosophy of Clothes, Count d'Orsay walked in. 
I had not seen him for four or five years. Last 
time he was as gay in his colours as a humming- 
bird — blue satin cravat, blue velvet waistcoat, 
cream-coloured coat, lined with velvet of the same 
hue, trousers also of a bright colour, I forget what ; 

* She never was there. Seamore Place is meant. 



268 DOsay 

white French gloves, two glorious breastpins 
attached by a chain, and length enough of gold 
watch-guard to have hanged himself in. To-day, 
in compliment to his five more years, he was all 
in black and brown — a black satin cravat, a brown 
velvet waistcoat, a brown coat some shades darker 
than the waistcoat, lined with velvet of its own 
shade, and almost black trousers, one breast-pin, 
a large pear-shaped pearl set into a little cup of 
diamonds, and only one fold of gold chain round 
his neck, tucked together right on the centre of 
his spacious breast with one magnificent turquoise. 
Well ! that man understood his trade ; if it be but 
that of dandy, nobody can deny that he is a 
perfect master of it, that he dresses himself with 
consummate skill ! A bungler would have made 
no allowance for five more years at his time of 
life, but he had the fine sense to perceive how 
much better his dress of to-day sets off his slightly 
enlarged figure and slightly worn complexion, than 
the humming-bird colours of five years back would 
have done. Poor D'Orsay ! he was born to have 
been something better than even the king of 
dandies. He did not say nearly so many clever 
things this time as on the last occasion. His wit, 
I suppose, is of the sort that belongs more to 
animal spirits than to real genius, and his animal 
spirits seem to have fallen many degrees. The 
only thing that fell from him to-day worth re- 
membering- was his account of a mask he had 
seen of Charles Fox, ' all punched and flattened 
as if he had slept in a book.' 

" Lord Jeffrey came, unexpected, while the 
Count was here. What a difference ! the prince 



Sundry Festivities 269 

of critics and the prince of dandies. How washed 
out the beautiful dandiacal face looked beside 
that little clever old man's ! The large blue 
dandiacal eyes, you would have said, had never 
contemplated anything more interesting than the 
reflection of the handsome personage they per- 
tained to in a looking-glass ; while the dark 
penetrating ones of the other had been taking 
note of most things in God's universe, even see- 
ing a good way into millstones." 



XXV 

SUNSET 

Sunset of the glories of Gore House came in the 
year 1 849, a cold, bitter sunset, presaging a stormy 
morrow. Lady Blessington was nearly sixty years 
old, well-preserved indeed, but Time's footsteps 
are crow's-feet. D'Orsay was nearing fifty. 
Darby and Joan ; only the former at fifty is more 
than ten years younger than the latter at sixty. 

Behind all the gaiety of Gore House there had 
long been a dark background, ever growing more 
sinister. Without the harassment of any cares it 
would have been difficult for a woman of Lady 
Blessington's age to maintain a sovereignty which 
depended almost entirely upon her beauty. 
Troubles met her at every turn, and the last few 
years at Gore House must have been to her years 
of torment and despair. She heard her doom 
approaching with sure foot, and knew that she 
was unable to stay the advance. 

Her jointure of ^2000 was entirely inadequate 
to maintain the expenses of either Seamore Place 
or Gore House, to the exchequers of which 
D'Orsay cannot have contributed ; any capital that 
came into his hands was rapidly dispersed by them 
among hungry debtors, and his income of ^500 
was probably hypothecated in the same way. It 
was essential for her, therefore, to add to her 
revenue, for the reduction of expenditure does not 

270 



Sunset 271 

seem to have occurred to this luxury-loving soul. 
She does indeed seem to have been careful to see 
that she obtained her money's worth, and kept a 
tight hand on the household expenses and accounts. 
One habit of hers was to keep a " book of dinners," 
noting down the names of the guests at each 
entertainment. 

When no other way of securing an income 
suggests itself to the needy or hard-up, they in- 
variably take up their pens and write. Lady 
Blessington, if it had not been for her beauty and 
notoriety, could scarcely have earned a livelihood 
as a hack writer for the lesser journals, but her 
name gave to her writings a market value which 
their intrinsic merit did not. Her Conversations 
with Byron have already been mentioned, and 
sufficiently dealt with ; she also wrote books of 
travel, novels, verses, edited such periodicals as 
The Keepsake and The Book of Beauty, to which 
the eminent authors who fluttered round her at 
Gore House contributed, and in the end when 
these enterprises were failing became a con- 
tributor to the Daily News of " exclusive intelli- 
gence," that is to say of "any sort of intelligence 
she might like to communicate, of the sayings, 
doings, memoirs or movements in the fashionable 
world," for which she received payment at the 
rate of ^400 a year ; Dickens and Forster were 
her editors. 

The death in 1848 of Heath, the publisher, in 
insolvency brought a loss to Lady Blessington of 
about ^700. Her earnings have been placed at 
a thousand a year, but William Jerdan in his 
Autobiography declares them to have been much 



272 D'Orsay 

higher. " I have known her to enjoy from her pen 
an amount somewhere midway between ^2000 
and ^3000 per annum, and her title, as well as 
talents, had considerable influence in ' ruling high 
prices' as they say in Mark Lane and other 
markets. To this, also, her well-arranged parties 
with a publisher now and then, to meet folks of 
a style unusual to men in business, contributed 
their attractions ; and the same society was in 
reality of solid value towards the production of 
such publications as the Annuals, the contents of 
which were provided by the editor almost entirely 
from the pens of private friends." 

In 1833 by a robbery of jewellery and plate 
at Seamore Place, Lady Blessington lost some- 
thing like ^"1000. 

These losses, the continual strain of working 
to obtain the funds necessary for her luxurious 
mode of life and the difficulties in which D'Orsay 
was involved told heavily upon her health and 
spirits. As she herself writes in her commonplace 
book : — 

"Great trials demand great courage, and all 
our energy is called up to enable us to bear them. 
But it is the minor cares of life that wear out the 
body, because, singly, and in detail, they do not 
appear sufficiently important to engage us to rally 
our force and spirits to support them. . . . Many 
minds that have withstood the most severe trials, 
have been broken down by a succession of ignoble 
cares ; " and there is a touch of sorrowful bitterness 
in this : " Friends are the thermometers by which 
we may judge the temperature of our fortunes." 

Not that she was ill-served by her friends, 



Sunset 273 

rather the contrary ; few women have had so many 
or so faithful. 

The following letter paints the situation better 
than can any words of ours ; it was written to 
Lady Blessington in or about 1848 : — 

" My Dearest Friend, — You do not do me 
more than justice in the belief that I most fully sym- 
pathise with all your troubles, and I shall be only 
too happy if my advice can in any way assist you. 

" First. As to your jointure, nothing in law 
is so indisputable — as that a widow's jointure takes 
precedence of every other claim on an estate. 
The very first money the agent or steward receives 
from the property should go to the discharge of 
this claim. No subsequent mortgages, annuities, 
encumbrances, law-suits, expenses of management, 
etc., can be permitted to interfere with the payment 
of jointure ; and as, whatever the distress of the 
tenants, or the embarrassments of the estate, it is 
clear that some rents must have come in half- 
yearly ; so, on those rents you have an indisputable 
right ; and, I think, on consulting your lawyer, he 
will put you in a way, either by a memorial to 
Chancery, or otherwise, to secure in future the 
regular payment of this life-charge. Indeed, as 
property charged with a jointure, although the 
rents are not paid for months after the proper 
dates, the jointure must be paid on the regular 
days, and if not, the proprietor would become 
liable to immediate litigation. I am here presum- 
ing that you but ask for the jointure, due quarterly, 
or half-yearly, and not in advance, which, if the 
affairs are in Chancery, it would be illegal to grant. 



274 D'Orsay 

" Secondly. With respect to the diamonds, 
would it be possible or expedient, to select a 
certain portion (say half), which you least value 
on their own account ; and if a jeweller himself 
falls too short in his offer, to get him to sell them 
on commission ? You must remember, that every 
year, by paying interest on them,* you are losing 
money on them, so that in a few years you may 
thus lose more than by taking at once less than 
their true value. There are diamond merchants, 
who, I believe, give more for those articles than 
jewellers, and if you know Anthony Rothschild, 
and would not object to speak to him, he might 
help you. . . . 

" I know well how, to those accustomed to 
punctual payments, and with a horror of debt, 
pecuniary embarrassments prey upon the mind, but 
I think they may be borne, not only with ease, but 
some degree of complacency, when connected 
with such generous devotions and affectionate 
services as those which must console you amidst 
all your cares. In emptying your purse you have 
at least filled your heart with consolations, which 
will long outlast what I trust will be but the troubles 
of a season." 

The last sentences refer to the generous 
charity which was one of Lady Blessington's 
saving graces : parents, brothers, sisters, friends, 
lover, all benefited by her aid. Two very pleasing 
letters from Mrs S. C. Hall may be quoted on 
this and other points : — 

" I have never had occasion to appeal to Lady 
Blessington for aid for any kind or charitable 

* Apparently they had been pawned. 



Sunset 275 

purpose, that she did not at once, with a grace 
peculiarly her own, come forward cheerfully and 
' help ' to the extent of her power." 

And :— 

"When Lady Blessington left London, she 
did not forget the necessities of several of her 
poor dependants, who received regular aid from 
her after her arrival, and while she resided in 
Paris.* She found time, despite her literary 
labours, her anxieties and the claims which she 
permitted society to make upon her time, not only 
to do acts of kindness now and then for those 
in whom she felt an interest, but to give what 
seemed perpetual thought to their well-doing : 
and she never missed an opportunity of doing a 
gracious act or saying a gracious word. . . . 

" I have no means of knowing whether what 
the world said of this beautiful woman was true or 
false, but I am sure God intended her to be good, 
and there was a deep-seated good intent in what- 
ever she did that came under my observation. 

"Her sympathies were quick and cordial, and 
independent of worldiness ; her taste in art and 
literature womanly and refined ; I say ' womanly/ 
because she had a perfectly feminine appreciation 
of whatever was delicate and beautiful. . . . 
Her manners were singularly simple and graceful ; 
it was to me an intense delight to look at beauty, 
which though I never saw in its full bloom, was 
charming in its autumn time ; and the Irish 
accent, and soft, sweet, Irish laugh, used to make 
my heart beat with the pleasures of memory. . . . 
Her conversation was not witty nor wise, but it 

* See Infra. 



276 D'Orsay 

was in good tune and good taste, mingled with a 
great deal of humour, which escaped everything 
bordering on vulgarity. It was surprising how a 
tale of distress or a touching anecdote would at 
once suffuse her clear intelligent eyes with tears, 
and her beautiful mouth would break into smiles 
and dimples at even the echo of wit or jest." 

This is singularly interesting as the evidence 
of a woman, one of the few who were intimate 
with Lady Blessington. Of an Irish woman too, 
who could perceive and appreciate the womanly 
side of Lady Blessington's simple nature. 
Simple, yes ; she was just a simple, emotional, 
luxury-loving, laughter-loving sympathetic Irish 
woman, who under favourable circumstances 
might have been a true and adorable wife and 
helpmate ; who under the circumstances that did 
rule her life, became — Lady Blessington. 

Such first-hand testimony as that of Mrs S. C. 
Hall is worth a wilderness of commentary ; to it 
we will add this from Lady Blessington's maid, 
Anne Cooper : — 

" My lady's spirits were naturally good : 
before she was overpowered with difficulties, and 
troubles on account of them, she was very 
cheerful, droll, and particularly amusing. This 
was natural to her. Her general health was 
usually good ; she often told me she had never 
been confined to her bed one whole day in her 
life. And her spirits would have continued good, 
but that she got so overwhelmed with care and 
expenses of all kinds. The calls for her 
assistance were from all quarters. Some de- 
pended wholly on her (and had a regular pension, 



Sunset 277 

quarterly paid) — her father and mother, for 
many years before they died ; the education of 
children of friends fell upon her. . . . Constant 
assistance had to be given to others — (to the 
family, in particular, of one poor lady, now dead 
some years, whom she loved very dearly). She 
did a great many charities ; for instance, she gave 
very largely to poor literary people, poor artists ; 
something yearly to old servants . . . and from 
some, whom she served, to add to all her other 
miseries, she met with shameful ingratitude. 

" Labouring night and day at literary work, 
all her anxiety was to be clear of debt. She was 
latterly constantly trying to curtail all her 
expenses in her own establishment, and constantly 
toiling to get money. Worried and harassed at 
not being able to pay bills when they were sent 
in ; at seeing large expenses still going on, and 
knowing the want of means to meet them, she 
got no sleep at night. She long wished to give 
up Gore House, to have a sale of her furniture, 
and to pay off her debts. She wished this for 
two years before she left England ; but when the 
famine in Ireland rendered the payment of her 
jointure irregular, and every succeeding year 
more and more so, her difficulties increased, and, 
at last, Howell & James put an execution in 
the house. . . . Poor soul ! her heart was too 
large for her means." 

Still Lady Blessington fought on, and faced 
the footlights without outward faltering ; she 
played her part in the comedy and received the 
applause of her friends, few of whom realised that 
the comedy was a tragedy. " Passion ! Posses- 



278 D'Orsay 

sion ! Indifference!" she writes, "what a history- 
is comprised in these three words ! What hopes 
and fears succeeded by a felicity as brief as in- 
toxicating — followed in its turn by the old con- 
sequence of possession — indifference ! What 
burning tears, what bitter pangs, rending the very 
heartstrings — what sleepless nights and watchful 
days form part of this everyday story of life, 
whose termination leaves the actors to search 
again for new illusions to finish like the last." 
But what new illusions can be looked for by a 
tried, sad woman of sixty ? 

D'Orsay was locked up in Gore House during 
these last two years of sunset for six days out of 
each seven ; debt hung like a millstone round 
his neck also. These two, who had sailed over 
happy seas with favourable winds, were now to- 
gether drifting on the rocks. 

One day in April a sheriffs officer, effectually 
disguised, managed to enter the house, and then 
the end of this second act of our play came rapidly. 
Lady Blessington informed of the mishap, realising 
that once it was known that an execution was 
laid upon her property there would no more be 
any safety for the Count's person, sent to D'Orsay 's 
room to warn him of his danger. 

"Bah!" exclaimed D'Orsay, unable or un- 
willing to believe that the hour for flight had 
at last come upon him ; and again and again 
" Bah!" Not until Lady Blessington herself added 
her personal persuasion did he grasp the situation. 

De Contades gives a somewhat different 
account. Just before the dinner hour, a pastry- 
cook's boy presented himself at Gore House with 



Sunset 279 

a dish, sent in, so he said, by the confectioner. 
Having left this in the kitchen, he deliberately 
walked upstairs to the Count's dressing-room. 

"Well, who's that?" asked D'Orsay. 

It was a sheriff's officer ! 
" Really!" exclaimed D'Orsay, and demanded 
that he should be permitted to complete the tying 
of his tie — salon or prison — his tie must be perfect. 

" But, Count—" 

11 Bah, bah ! All in good time." 

The officer was quite interested in the tying 
of that tie ; few men had been so honoured as to 
be allowed to see how D'Orsay tied his tie — and, 
lo ! by the time the tie was tied, the sun had sunk 
to rest and D'Orsay was free till sunrise ! 

"John," said D'Orsay, calmly walking off to 
the drawing-room, " kick this chap out of the 
door." 

The which was executed and the writ was not. 

In the grey of the morning, however, D'Orsay, 
taking every precaution against capture on the 
way, set out for Paris with a valet, a valise, 
and an umbrella. The words of a great man at 
any moment of crisis in his affairs are worth 
recording ; one of D'Orsay 's last remarks in 
London was : " Well, at least, if I have nothing 
else, I will have the best umbrella ! " 

That was the bravado of a brave man. What 
really was in his mind ? What were Napoleon's 
thoughts as he turned his back upon Moscow ? 
What were D'Orsay 's as he fled that morning, 
conquered, from the town he had captured and 
enslaved so long ? 



XXVI 

THE END OF GORE HOUSE 

Before following D'Orsay to Paris, we will witness 
the end of the Blessington rdgime at Gore House. 
The harassed lady's creditors swarmed round her ; 
she had given bills and bonds in anticipation of 
her jointure for something like ^1500; Howell 
& James' account seems to have amounted to 
^"4000 ! ! Money-lenders, bill-discounters, tax- 
collectors, tradesmen of every kind, all rushed in 
to see what could be saved. In the event it was 
found impossible to avoid a sale of her goods and 
effects. 

On April 9th, 1849, Lady Blessington writes 
to Forster from Gore House : 

" As I purpose leaving England in a few days, 
it will pain me very much to depart without 
personally wishing you farewell ; and though I 
am in all the fever of packing up, I will make 
time to receive a visit from you, if you can call any 
day this week between eleven o'clock in the fore- 
noon, or after nine in the evening. Count d'Orsay 
was called to Paris so suddenly, that he had not 
time to take leave of any of his friends, but he 
charged me to say a thousand kind things to you." 

The following from Disraeli reached her in 
Paris : — 

?^th April 1849. 

" We returned to town on the 16th, and a few 
days after, I called at Gore House, but you were 
gone. It was a pang; for though absorbing 

280 



The End of Gore House 281 

duties of my life have prevented me of late from 
passing as much time under that roof as it was 
once my happiness and good fortune through your 
kindness to do ; you are well assured, that my 
heart never changed for an instant to its inmates, 
and that I invariably entertained for them the 
same interest and affection. 

"Had I been aware of your intentions, I 
would have come up to town earlier, and specially 
to have said ■ Adieu ! ' mournful as that is. 

" I thought I should never pay another visit 
to Paris, but I have now an object in doing so. 
All the world here will miss you very much, and 
the charm with which you invested existence ; 
but for your own happiness, I am persuaded you 
have acted wisely. Every now and then, in this 
life, we require a great change ; it wonderfully 
revives the sense of existence. I envy you ; pray, 
if possible, let me sometimes hear from you." 

Thackeray writes to Mrs Brookfield : — 
" I have just come away from a dismal sight ; 
Gore House full of snobs looking at the furniture. 
Foul Jews ; odious bombazine women, who drove 
up in mysterious flys which they had hired, the 
wretches, to be fined ( ? fine), so as to come in 
state to a fashionable lounge ; brutes keeping 
their hats on in the kind old drawing-room — I 
longed to knock some of them off, and say, ' Sir, 
be civil in a lady's room. . . .' There was one of 
the servants there, not a powdered one, but a 
butler, a whatd'youcallit. My heart melted 
towards him and I gave him a pound. Ah ! it 
was a strange, sad picture of Vanity Fair." 



282 D'Orsay 

The catalogue of the sale gives an idea of the 
" household gods " : — 

11 Costly and elegant effects : comprising all 
the magnificent furniture, rare porcelain, sculpture 
in marble, bronzes, and an assemblage of objects 
of art and decoration ; a casket of valuable 
jewellery and bijouterie, services of chased silver 
and silver-gilt plate, a superbly-fitted silver dress- 
ing-case ; collection of ancient and modern pictures, 
including many portraits of distinguished persons, 
valuable original drawings, and fine engravings, 
framed and in portfolios ; the extensive and in- 
teresting library of books, comprising upwards of 
5000 volumes, expensive table services of china and 
rich cut glass, and an infinity of useful and valuable 
articles. All the property of the Right Hon. the 
Countess of Blessington, retiring to the Continent." 

So wrote Mr Phillips, " that eminent author 
of auctioneering advertisements." 

The sale took place in May, and was attended 
by a crowd of fashionables, and the net sum 
realised was £1 1,985, 4s. od. Lawrence's portrait 
of Lady Blessington, now in the Wallace Collection, 
fetched ,£336 and was purchased by Lord Hertford, 
who also acquired D'Orsay 's portrait of the Duke 
of Wellington for ^189. Chalons portrait of 
Lady Blessington was saved from the wreck ; it 
is now in the National Portrait Gallery. 

Lady Blessington's French valet, Avillon, 
writes to her : — 

"Gore House, Kensington, 
May 2>th, 1849. 

"My Lady, — J'ai bien rec^i votre lettre, et 
je me serais empresse" d'y rdpondre le meme jour, 



The End of Gore House 283 

mais j'ai et6 si occupe etant le premier de la vente 
qu'il m'a £te impossible de le faire. J'ai vu M. 

P. dans l'apres midi. II avais un commis ici 

pour prendre le prix des differents objets vendu 
le 7 May, et que vous avez sans doute recu main- 
tenant, au dire des gens qui ont assist^ a la vente. 
Les choses se sont vendus avant agencement et 
je dois ajouter que M. Phillips n'a rien neglige^ 
pour rendre la vente interessante a toute la 
noblesse d'ici. 

" Lord Hertford a achete plusieurs choses, et 
ce n'est que dimanche dernier fort tard dans l'apres 
midi, qu'il est venu voir la maison. En un mot je 
pense sans exageYation, que le nombre de personnes 
qui sont venus a la maison pendant les 5 jours 
quelle a ete en vue, que plus de 20,000 personnes 
y sont entrees ; une tres grande quantite" de Cata- 
logue ont ete vendus, et nous en vendons encore 
tous les jours, car vous le savez, personne n'est 
admis sans cela. Plusieurs des personnes qui 
fr^quantent la maison sont venus les deux 
premiers jours. . . . 

" Le Dr. Quin est venu plusieurs fois, et a 
paru prendre le plus grand interet a ce qui se 
passait ici. M. Thackeray est venu aussi, et 
avait les larmes aux yeux en partant. Cest peut- 
etre la seule personne que fed vu re'ellement affect d 
a votre depart." 

Lady Blessington and her two nieces had left 
for Paris on 14th April. 



XXVII 

PARIS FOR THE LAST TIME 

Lady Blessington returned to the city where her 
husband had died ; D'Orsay to serve under another 
Napoleon than he to whom he had once aspired 
to render duty. Lady Blessington took a suite of 
rooms in the Hotel de la Ville l'Eveque, but 
shortly moved into an appartement in the Rue du 
Cerq, hard by the Champs Elysees, which she 
furnished, partly with some of the salvage from 
the sale, and where she lived very cosily upon her 
jointure. 

The following letter is from Henry Bulwer : — ■ 

"May 6, 1849. 
" I was very glad to get your letter. I never 
had a doubt (I judged by myself) that your 
friends would remain always your friends, and I 
was sure that many who were not Alfred's when 
he was away, would become so when he was 
present.* It would be great ingratitude if Prince 
Louis forgot former kindnesses and services, and I 
must say, that I do not think him capable of this. 
" I think you will take a house in Paris or near 
it, and I hope some day there to find you, and to 
renew some of the many happy hours I have 
spent in your society. I shall attend the sale, 
and advise all my friends to do so. From what I 
hear, things will probably sell well. I am sure 
that Samson will execute any commission for you 

* I.e. in Paris. 



Paris for the Last Time 285 

when he goes to Paris, and I gave Douro your 
message, who returns it. ..." 

Napoleon as President, however, was a differ- 
ent man from a mere Prince in Exile, and could 
scarcely show himself as intimate in Paris with 
Lady Blessington and D'Orsay as he had done in 
London. Accompanied by the Misses Power 
they dined at the Elys^e Palace, and then social 
intercourse apparently ceased. That D'Orsay had 
in other days been of great assistance to Napoleon, 
and that Lady Blessington had been to him a 
most kind hostess, there is no denying ; they 
expected much now in return, but Napoleon could 
scarcely in decency give much. 

It is narrated that Napoleon said to Lady 
Blessington : " Are you going to stay long in 
France ? " 

And that she with more wit than wisdom 
replied : " I don't know. Are you ?" 

Lady Blessington was warmly welcomed by 
many of her old friends, notably by various 
members of the family of de Grammont. She 
tried to resume in a minor key at Paris the life she 
had led at Gore House ; but the endeavour failed. 

A letter from Lady Blessington's niece, 
Margaret Power, brings us to the closing scene 
of this portion of our story : — 

" On arriving in Paris, my aunt followed a mode 
of life differing considerably from the sedentary one 
she had for such a length of time pursued ; she rose 
earlier, took much exercise, and, in consequence, 
lived somewhat higher than was her wont, for she 
was habitually a remarkably small eater ; this 



286 D'Orsay 

appeared to agree with her general health, for she 
looked well, and was cheerful ; but she began to 
suffer occasionally (especially in the morning) from 
oppression and difficulty of breathing. These 
symptoms, slight at first, she carefully concealed 
from our knowledge, having always a great objec- 
tion to medical treatment ; but as they increased 
in force and frequency, she was obliged to reveal 
them, and medical aid was immediately called in. 
Dr Ldon Simon pronounced there was dnergie du 
coeur, but that the symptoms in question proceeded 
probably from bronchitis — a disease then very 
prevalent in Paris — that they were nervous, and 
entailed no danger, and as, after the remedies he 
prescribed, the attacks diminished perceptibly in 
violence, and her general health seemed little 
affected by them, he entertained no serious alarm. 
"On the 3rd of June, she was removed from 
the hotel we had occupied during the seven weeks 
we had passed in Paris, and entered the residence 
which my poor aunt had devoted so much pains 
and attention to the selecting and furnishing of, 
and that same day dined en famille with the 
Due and Duchesse de Guiche (Count d'Orsay's 
nephew). On that occasion, my aunt seemed 
particularly well in health and spirits, and it being 
a lovely night, we walked home by moonlight. 
As usual, I aided my aunt to undress — she never 
allowed her maid to sit up for her — and left her a 
little after midnight. She passed, it seems, some 
most restless hours (she was habitually a bad 
sleeper), and early in the morning, feeling the 
commencement of one of the attacks, she called 
for assistance, and Dr Simon was immediately 



Paris for the Last Time 287 

sent for, the symptoms manifesting themselves 
with considerable violence, and in the meantime, 
the remedies he had ordered — sitting upright, 
rubbing the chest and upper stomach with ether, ad- 
ministering ether, internally, etc. — were all resorted 
to without effect ; the difficulty of breathing became 
so excessive, that the whole of the chest heaved 
upwards at each inspiration, which was inhaled with 
a loud whooping noise, the face was swollen and 
purple, the eyeballs distended, and utterance almost 
wholly denied, while the extremities gradually 
became cold and livid, in spite of every attempt to 
restore the vital heat. By degrees, the violence of 
the symptoms abated ; she uttered a few words ; the 
first, ' The violence is over, I can breathe freer ' ; 
and soon after, ' Quelle heure est-il? ' Thus en- 
couraged, we deemed the danger past ; but, alas ! 
how bitterly were we deceived ; she gradually sank 
from that moment, and when Dr Simon, who had 
been delayed by another patient, arrived, he saw 
that hope was gone ; and, indeed, she expired so 
easily, so tranquilly, that it was impossible to 
perceive the moment when her spirit passed 
away." 

D'Orsay was alone. 

The autopsy showed that death was caused 
by enlargement of the heart. The body was 
embalmed and lay in the vaults of the Madeleine 
until the monument at Chambourcy, where was 
the seat of the de Grammonts, a few miles from 
St Germain-en- Laye, was ready to receive it. 
The mausoleum, designed by D'Orsay, stands 
upon a slight eminence ; a railing of bronze encloses 
a pyramid of granite rising from a square platform 

\ 



288 D'Orsay 

of black stone. Entering the burial chamber, 
against the opposite wall is a copy in bronze of 
Michael Angelo's crucified Christ. On either side 
the chamber stands a sarcophagus — in that to the 
left lies Lady Blessington. " It stands," writes 
Miss Power, "on a hillside, just above the village 
cemetery, and overlooks a view of exquisite beauty 
and immense extent, taking in the Seine winding 
through the fertile valley and the forest of St 
Germain ; plains, villages and far distant hills, and 
at the back and side it is sheltered by chestnut 
trees of large size and great age ; a more 
picturesque spot it is difficult to imagine." The 
ivy growing over the green turf was sent from 
Ireland by Bernal Osborne. 

On the wall above the tomb of Lady Blessing- 
ton are two epitaphs, one in Latin by Landor ; the 
other by Barry Cornwall, which runs as follows : — 

IN HER LIFETIME 

SHE WAS LOVED AND ADMIRED, 

FOR HER MANY GRACEFUL WRITINGS, 

HER GENTLE MANNERS, HER KIND AND GENEROUS HEART. 

MEN, FAMOUS FOR ART AND SCIENCE, 

IN DISTANT LANDS, 

SOUGHT HER FRIENDSHIP : 

AND THE HISTORIANS, AND SCHOLARS, THE POETS, AND WITS, AND 

PAINTERS, OF HER OWN COUNTRY, 

FOUND AN UNFAILING WELCOME 

IN HER EVER HOSPITABLE HOME. 

SHE GAVE, CHEERFULLY, TO ALL WHO WERE IN NEED, 

HELP, AND SYMPATHY, AND USEFUL COUNSEL ; 

AND SHE DIED 

LAMENTED BY HER FRIENDS. 

THEY WHO LOVED HER BEST IN LIFE, AND NOW LAMENT HER MOST, 

HAVE RAISED THIS TRIBUTARY MARBLE 

OVER HER PLACE OF REST. 

So far truth, and it is not to be expected of an 
epitaph that it should tell the whole truth. 
Requiescat. 




O t 

z 2 

si ^ 

> S 

< ^ 



O •£ 



XXVIII 

d'orsay in decline 

In April 1849, D'Orsay writes to Dr Quin from 

Paris : — 

" 38 Rue de la Ville l'Eveque. 

" Mon bon Quin, — J'ai eu un depart imprevu 

heureusement, que je suis safe de ce cote\ II a fallu 

que je me decide de partir a 3 hrs de la nuit pour ne 

pas manquer le Dimanche. Ces dames vous 

racontent qu'une de mes premieres pens^es ici ont 

ete pour vous. Vous le voyez par ce peu de mots 

— aimez moi toujours de loin, car je vous aimais 

bien de pres. — Votre meilleur ami, Alfred." 

The death of Lady Blessington was a blow to 
him from which he never really recovered. Writ- 
ing to Madden from Chambourcy on 12th July, 
Miss Power says : — 

" Count d'Orsay would himself have answered 
your letter, but had not the nerve or the heart to 
do so ; although the subject occupies his mind 
night and day, he cannot speak of it but to those 
who have been his fellow-sufferers. It is like an 
image ever floating before his eyes, which he has 
got, as it were, used to look upon, but which he 
cannot yet bear to grasp and feel that it is real. 
Much as she was to us, we cannot but feel that to 
him she was all ; the centre of his existence, round 
which his recollections, thoughts, hopes and plans 
turned, and just at the moment she was about to 

commence a new mode of life, one that promised 
t 289 



290 D'Orsay 

a rest from the occupation and anxieties that had 
for some years fallen to her share, death deprived 
us of her." 

The first visit that he paid to her tomb had a 
heart-breaking effect upon him ; at one moment 
he would be stunned, at another driven to frenzy 
by his grief. What thoughts of past times must 
have assailed him : of his first meeting with her in 
London so many years ago ; of the long days and 
nights of delight in Italy ; of his marriage, per- 
chance ; of Seamore Place, of Gore House ; of 
hours of merriment and of sorrow ; of her tried 
faithfulness to him ; of his occasional faithlessness. 
That his love for her survived even the advance 
of years we cannot doubt ; but the love of man is 
different far from the love of woman. 

In a letter, already partly quoted, to Lane, 
D'Orsay says, writing early in 1850 : — 

" Poor Miss Power is very much affected. 
There is no consolation to offer. The only one 
that I can imagine, is to think continually of the 
person lost, and to make oneself more miserable 
by thinking. It is, morally speaking, an homce- 
pathic treatment, and the only one which can give 
some relief. You cannot form an idea of the 
soulagement that I found, in occupying myself in 
the country (at Chambourcy) in building the monu- 
ment which I have erected to dear Lady Bles- 
sington's memory. I made it so solid and so fine, 
that I felt all the time that death was the reality 
and life only the dream of all around me. When 
I hear anyone making projects for the future, I 
laugh, feeling as I do now, that we may to-morrow, 
without five minutes' notice, have to follow those 



D'Orsay in Decline 291 

we regret. I am prepared for that, with a satis- 
factory resignation." 

D'Orsay wrote to Forster on April 23rd, 
1850:— 

"Miss Power has told you how much I love 
you, and how often we talk about you. The fact 
is, I am full of reminiscences, and they are such a 
medley of displeasure and pleasure that I hesi- 
tate to write even to those who are most likely to 
understand me. Just think that I have not even 
yet written to Edward Bulwer. You'll under- 
stand, I'm sure. To-day I dined with Lamartine 
and Victor Hugo at Girardin's. . . . 

" Do not let Fonblanque think I have for- 
gotten him ? Give a thousand friendly wishes 
from me to Dickens and his wife, and embrace 
my godson for me. I count also on your speak- 
ing kindly of me to Macready and his wife, and 
to the good Maclise. It seems to me almost as 
if I had only gone away to-day, my recollections 
are so vivid ; it is truly a daguerreotype of the 
heart that nothing can efface. I adore old 
England, and long to return there. Never did 
man so suffer as I have done for my loss.* 

" I wonder at those religious people who hold 
religion so high that they quickly find consolation. 
They do not understand, the idiots, that there is 
a great, a greater faith in a true sorrow which 
does not heal. 

" Adieu, mon brave ami, count always on my 
affection, D'Orsay." 

He found comfort in the companionship of 

* Of Lady Blessington. 



292 D'Orsay 

Lady Blessington's two nieces, Margaret and 
Ellen. To a certain extent he avoided mixing 
in society, but we hear of him now and again. 

In 1850 he rented a large studio and some 
smaller rooms in the house of Theodore Gudin, 
the marine painter, to which he conveyed all his 
belongings, and where he settled down to work 
and sedate entertaining. Here Thackeray visited 
him : — 

" To-day I went to see D'Orsay, who has made 
a bust of Lamartine,* who ... is mad with 
vanity. He has written some verses on his bust, 
and asks : ' Who is this ? Is it a warrior ? Is it 
a hero ? Is it a priest? Is it a sage? Is it a 
tribune of the people ? Is it an Adonis ? ' mean- 
ing that he is all these things, — verses so fatuous 
and crazy I never saw. Well, D'Orsay says they 
are the finest verses that ever were written, and 
imparts to me a translation which Miss Power 
has made of them ; and D'Orsay believes in his 
mad rubbish of a statue, which he didn't make ; 
believes in it in the mad way that madmen do, — 
that it is divine, and that he made it ; only as you 
look in his eyes, you see that he doesn't quite 
believe, and when pressed hesitates, and turns 
away with a howl of rage. D'Orsay has fitted 
himself up a charming atelier, with arms and 
trophies, pictures and looking-glasses, the tomb 
of Blessington, the sword and star of Napoleon, 
and a crucifix over his bed ; and here he dwells 
without any doubts or remorses, admiring himself 
in the most horrible pictures which he has painted, 
and the statues which he gets done for him." 

* Vide supra, p. 225. 



D'Orsay in Decline 293 

Lord Lamington gives a curious account of a 
visit : — 

I " found his room all hung with black curtains, 
the bed and window-curtains were the same ; all 
the souvenirs of one so dear were collected around 
him." 

Of the friends that rallied around him, Madden 
names as among the most faithful the ex- King 
Jerome and his son, Prince Napoleon, and Emile 
de Girardin. Of the man of the bust, D'Orsay 
writes, in April 1850 : " Lamartine me disait hier : 
1 Plus je vois de representants du peuple, plus 
j'aime mes chiens.' " 

Early in February 1851 we find Dickens in 
Paris, stopping at the Hotel Wagram ; D'Orsay 
dined with him on the nth and Dickens went 
in return to the atelier the next day. "He was 
very happy with us," he writes, "and is much 
improved both in spirits and looks." 

In May 1850 Abraham Hay ward was in Paris, 
and dined at Philippe's with a highly-distinguished 
company, including Brougham, Alexandre Dumas, 
Lord Dufferin, the Hon. W. Stuart, a Mr Dundas 
of Carron, Hayward himself and D'Orsay. Lord 
Dufferin, who, however, gives 1849 as the date, 
describes this dinner as "noisy but amusing." 
The object of the dinner was the bringing to- 
gether of Brougham and Dumas : — -" Brougham 
was punctual to the hour, and they were formally 
introduced by Count d'Orsay, who, observing some 
slight symptoms of stiffness, exclaimed : ' Comment, 
diable, vous, les deux grands hommes, e?nbrassez- 
vous done, embrassez-vous! They fraternised ac- 
cordingly a la franfaise, Brougham looking very 



294 D'Orsay 

much during the operation as if he were in the 
grip of a bear, though nobody could look more 
cordial and satisfied than Dumas. The dinner 
was excellent. Some first rate Clos de Vougeot, 
of which Dumas had an accurate foreknowledge, 
sustained the hilarity of the company ; the con- 
versation was varied and animated ; each of the 
distinguished guests took his fair share, and no 
more than his fair share ; and it was bordering on 
midnight when the party separated." 

The price of the dinner was twenty francs a 
head, not including the wine, and D'Orsay and 
Hay ward were jointly responsible for the menu. 
" The most successful dishes were the bisque, the 
fritures Italiennes, and the gigot a la Bretonne" 
so says Hay ward. 

In his latest days he still retained a keen zest 
for the good things of the table, as is shown by this 
letter of his to Hayward : — 

"Paris, \st May 1852. 

" I must confess with regret that the culinary 
art has sadly fallen off in Paris ; and I do not very 
clearly see how it is to recover, as there are at 
present no great establishments where the school 
can be kept up. 

"You must have remarked, when you were 
here, that at all the first-class restaurants you had 
nearly the same dinner ; they may, however, be 
divided into three categories. Undoubtedly, the 
best for a great dinner and good wine are the 
Freres Provencaux (Palais Royal) ; Philippe (Rue 
Mont Orgueil), and the Cafe de Paris ; the latter 
is not always to be counted upon, but is excellent 



D'Orsay in Decline 295 

when they give you a soigne 1 dinner. In the 
second class are Very (Palais Royal), Vefour (Cafe 
Anglais), and Champeaux (Place de la Bourse), 
where you can have a most conscientious dinner, 
good without pretension ; the situation is central, 
in a beautiful garden, and you must ask for a 
bifstek a la Chateaubriand. At the head of the 
third class we must place Bonvallet, on the Bou- 
levard du Temple, near all the little theatres ; 
Defieux, chiefly remarkable for corporation and 
assembly dinners. . . . The two best places for 
suppers are the Maison d'Or and the Cafe 
Anglais ; and for breakfasts, Tortoni's, and the 
Cafe d'Orsay on the Ouai d'Orsay. In the vicinity 
of Paris, the best restaurant is the Pavilion Henri 
Ouatre, at St Germains, kept by the old cook of 
the Duchesse de Berri. At none of these places 
could you find dinners now such as were produced 
by Ude ; by Soyer, formerly with Lord Chester- 
field ; by Rotival, with Lord Wilton ; or by 
Perron, with Lord Londonderry. . . . You are 
now au fait of the pretended French gastronomy. 
It has emigrated to England, and has no wish to 
return. We do not absolutely die of hunger here, 
and that is all that can be said." 

A few other friends were faithful. There was 
Eugene Sue, a much read man in his day, but his 
name drags on a precarious existence now as the 
author of The Mysteries of Paris and The Wander- 
ing Jew. Probably his chief claim to immortality 
will be found to be his friendship with D'Orsay, 
who indeed inspired him with the central figure 
of " Le Viscomte de Letocere, ou L'Art de 
Plaire." He was quite a dandy in his way, 



296 D'Orsay 

though of course not comparable in degree 
with D'Orsay, and, strange combination, was a bit 
of a Communist. He gave vent to the true say- 
ing that " No one had any right to superfluity " — 
not even excepting D'Orsay? — "while any one 
was in want of necessaries." Yet this is a de- 
scription of his manner of " doing himself : " — 

"It is impossible to convey an idea of this 
luxury, of the sumptuousness of those caprices, of 
those whims of all kinds : here a dining-room, 
where the sideboards display plate, porcelain, and 
crystal, with pictures and flowers, to add to the 
pleasures of the table all the pleasures of the 
eyes ; there an inner gallery, where pictures, 
statuettes, drawings, and engravings, reproduce 
subjects the most calculated to excite the imagina- 
tion. Here is a library full of antiques, whose 
bookcases contain works bound with unheard-of 
luxury, where objects of art are multiplied with 
an absence of calculated affectation, which appears 
as if wishing to say they came there naturally. 
Daylight, shaded by the painted glass windows, 
and curtains of the richest stuff, gives to this place 
an air of mystery, invites to silence and to study, 
and produces those eccentric inspirations which 
M. Sue gives to the public. A desk, richly 
carved, receives sundry manuscripts of the 
romance-writer, the numerous homages sent to 
Monsieur, as the valet expresses himself, from all 
the corners of the globe. . . . Everywhere may 
be seen gold, silver, silk, velvet, and soft carpets. 
... A vast drawing-room, furnished and decor- 
ated with all imaginable care, exactly reproduces 
that of one of the heroines of romance of Monsieur 



D'Orsay in Decline 297 

Eugene Sue, and there have been carved on the 
woodwork of a Gothic mantelpiece medallions 
representing the Magdalen falling at the feet of 
our Saviour, who tells her that her sins will be 
forgiven her, because her love has been strong. 
... A small gallery, lined with odoriferous 
plants, leads to a circular walk, which surrounds 
a garden cultivated in the most expensive manner, 
and there is a fine piece of water, with numerous 
swans in it. The walk is a chef-cCceuvre of comfort, 
for it is alike protected from the wind and the 
rain, being covered with a dome. It is enclosed 
with balustrades, covered with creeping plants of 
the choicest nature. It is a sort of terrestrial 
paradise. . . . and beyond it is a park, admirably 
laid out with kiosques, rustic cottages, elegant 
bridges, and a preserve for pheasants, which 
secures myriads of birds for the shooting ex- 
cursions of the illustrious Communist, whose 
keepers exercise a severe look-out to prevent any 
person from touching the game." A paradise 
almost worthy of being the home of D'Orsay ! 

Sue rightly appreciated D'Orsay, and wrote 
thus of him to Lady Blessington : " Je quitte 
Alfred avec une vraie tristesse ; plus je le connais, 
plus j'apprecie ce bon, ce vaillant cceur, si chaud, 
si g^nereux pour ceux qu'il aime." 

Arsene Houssaye had seen D'Orsay at a dinner 
at Lamartine's, but had not spoken with him. 
Houssaye wrote him down as a very fascinating 
man, ''with a smiling air which comes from and 
speaks to the heart." Rachel came into Houssaye's 
office to meet him. 

"It's natural I should find you here," he said, 



298 D'Orsay 

"for it was to see you I came to see Arsene 
Houssaye. You play Phedre to-night ; I should 
count it great luck to be there, but there's not a 
single seat to be got either in the stalls or the 
balcony." 

" True," said Manager Houssaye, " but there's 
my own box, which I offer you with all my heart." 

" Good ! I accept it as an act of friendship, for it's 
the best in the house. I'll offer it to the Duchesse 
de Grammont, who will come with Guiche." 

The evening was a great success for all con- 
cerned, and Rachel gracefully said — " Comment 
ne jouerais-je pas bien quand je vois dans l'avant- 
scene deux Hippolytes?" 

D'Orsay and Houssaye became quite good 
friends, and the latter frequently visited the Count 
in his studio, which he describes as " being at once 
the salon, studio, work-room, smoking-room, fitted 
with divans, couches and hammocks." D'Orsay 
made a small medallion portrait of his visitor, and 
chatted much about Byron, from whom he showed 
a curious letter in which the poet says : " If I 
started life again, I would live unknown in Paris ; 
I would not write a word, not even to women ; 
but one cannot start life afresh, which is lucky ! " 

A very different view, however, is that which 
now follows : — 

Count Horace de Viel Castel notes : " The 
journals say that Count d'Orsay has received the 
commission for a marble statue of Prince Jerome 
to be placed at Versailles. So much the worse 
for Versailles. 

"The Count is an old 'lion,' whom nobody 
now knows or receives. He has lived with his 



D'Orsay in Decline 299 

mother-in-law, Lady Blessington, the blue- 
stocking of the keepsakes, and with everyone 
but his wife, Lady Henrietta d'Orsay, who was 
the mistress of the Duke d'Orleans, of Antoine 
de Noailles, and a host of lesser stars. 

" Count d'Orsay for twenty years lived on the 
aristocracy and the tradespeople of London. 
Steeped in debt, he has now turned artist, backed 
by a following of nonentities. . . . Every year he 
disfigures some contemporaneous celebrity either 
in marble or plaster ; last time it was Lamartine. 

" D'Orsay has still great pretensions to ele- 
gance, and dresses like no one else, with a display of 
embroidered linen, satin, gold chains, and hair all 
disordered." 

Accusations of a more serious character also 
he brings against him, even that he tried to 
persuade J drome Bonaparte that he was his son, 
so that he might receive some place or promotion. 

Then on December 2nd, 1851, came the 
thunderclap of the coup a" Mat, when the Prince 
who had become a President created himself an 
Emperor, and at the same time appears to have 
put an end to his friendship toward D'Orsay. 
Shortly after the event, D'Orsay was dining with 
a large company, and naturally the coup d'e'tat 
came up for discussion and comment. D'Orsay 
was quite outspoken in his condemnation, and 
said : " It is the greatest political swindle that ever 
has been practised in the world ! " Which remark 
very naturally created considerable dismay in the 
circle ; it is not wise to express too freely adverse 
opinions of emperors — while they are alive. 

In Abraham Hayward's Correspondence, con- 



300 D'Orsay 

siderable light is thrown upon D'Orsay 's opinions 
of Napoleon and the political situation in Paris. 
On 17th January 1850, he writes from 38 Rue de 
la Ville l'Eveque : — 

" Mon Cher Hayward, — J'aurois du vous 
repondre plus tot, pour vous remercier de l'article 
que vous m'avez envoye\ Jattendois d'avoir vu 
Louis Napoleon. Nous voici de retour a Paris, 
etabli pour l'Hiver qui est des plus rudes. Les 
affaires ici vont mal ; l'amour propre en souffrance 
fait tous les grands r6volutionnaires en France, 
il n'ya pas dix hommes de bonne foi dans ce beau 
pays ; les gens opposent dans la Chambre les lois 
qu'ils avait eux-memes proposers anciennement. 
Thiers et Berryer, bavards de profession, sont si 
versus d'etre mis de c6te\ qu'ils combinent une 
conjuration de Catalina. Les elections de Paris 
montreront d6finitivement de quel cote est le 
vent ; en attendant, dans le midi, le gouverne- 
ment est oblige" de donner son appui a des candi- 
dats legitimistes, plutot que de voir des extremes 
rouges remporter la victoire, c'est bien tomber de 
Charybdis dans Scylla. Napoleon a le plus grand 
de^ir to run straight, mais les crossins et jostlings 
cherchent a l'empecher, vous devez vous en 
apercevoir. . . . Rappelez-moi au bon souvenir 
de mes amis d'Angleterre, j'y suis souvent en 
pens^e, et malgre que cela soit toujours avec un 
grand sentiment de tristesse je preTere cela aux 
gaiet^s de Paris. Votre tres deVoue, 

D'Orsay." 

Then on the 5th, possibly the 6th, of December 
1851, D'Orsay sends over to Hayward for publi- 



D'Orsay in Decline 301 

cation in the English Press, the letter published 
in Paris on the 4th by JeVome, which was scarcely 
calculated to please nephew Louis. Two lines in 
D'Orsay's covering note are striking : — " I always 
think of dear old England, that one must like 
every day more from what we see everywhere else." 

On 2nd January, of the year following, D'Orsay 
writes a long and interesting letter to Hayward, 
in which he says emphatically that he was and is 
strongly opposed to the coup cCttat, and that on 
account of it Louis Napoleon had sunk in his 
estimation, as he had believed him to be a man as 
good as his word. He held that Napoleon would 
have "arrived" without employing illegitimate 
means, and that Republicanism was an almost 
negligible quantity. After discussing the standing 
of various leaders and parties, he continues : — 

" Vous voyez que je suis juste et impartial, 
quoique je suis reconnu, depuis 40 ann^es, d'etre le 
plus grand et le plus sincere Napoleonienquiexiste." 
And : " Vous ne pouvez concevoir a quel point les 
gens ici sont courtisans et plats valets ; vanite" et suc- 
ces sont les deux mots d'ordres. . . . Tout marche 
a l'Empire." In conclusion : " Ah ! if I were rich, 
I would soon be in London. Here I am an exile." 

A few days later he writes again to much the 
same purport, and says : " J'ai l'air d'etre dans une 
opposition, parce que je n'approuve pas la route 
que Louis a pris pour arriver 011 il en est main- 
tenant." Who can doubt that Louis Napoleon 
blundered in not asking for and accepting D'Orsay's 
advice ? But then it was natural that he should 
not have done so ; the little seldom care to accept 
the aid of the great. 



XXIX 

DEATH 

In the early part of 1852 a trouble of the spine 
became apparent, causing poor D'Orsay much pain 
and sickness, which he bore with admirable and 
uncomplaining patience. In July the doctors 
ordered him to Dieppe, whither he went accom- 
panied by the faithful Misses Power ; but it was 
too late ; death was evidently at hand. At the 
end of the month he returned to Paris, to die. 

On 2nd August, the Archbishop of Paris 
visited him, and on parting, embraced him, saying : 
"J'ai pour vous plus que de l'amitie\ j'ai de 
Inflection." The next day he received the last 
consolations of the Church at the hands of the cure* 
of Chambourcy. 

Madden had visited him during his last weeks, 
and has left a strange account of an interview with 
him, which must be quoted verbatim : — 

" The wreck only of the beau D'Orsay was 
there. 

"He was able to sit up and walk, though with 
difficulty and evidently with pain, about his room, 
which was at once his studio, reception room, and 
sleeping apartment. He burst out crying when I 
entered the room, and continued for a length of 
time so much affected that he could hardly speak 
to me. Gradually he became composed, and 
talked about Lady Blessington's death, but all the 

302 



Death 303 

time with tears pouring down his pale wan face, 
for even then his features were death-stricken. 

"He said with marked emphasis: ' In losing 
her I lost everything in this world — she was to me 
a mother I a dear, dear mother! a true loving 
mother to me ! ' While he uttered these words he 
sobbed and cried like a child. And referring 
to them, he again said : ' Y071 understand me, 
Madden.'" 

Madden believed D'Orsay to have been speak- 
ing in all sincerity. What are we to believe ? 
There is something almost terrible in this scene of 
the dying dandy, broken down in body and spirits, 
making a gallant effort to clear the name he had 
for years besmirched. But the statements of the 
dying must not be allowed to weigh against the 
deeds of the living. And would the dead lady 
have been pleased ? 

Madden continues : — 

" I said, among the many objects which caught 
my attention in the room, I was very glad to see 
a crucifix placed over the head of his bed ; men 
living in the world as he had done, were so much 
in the habit of forgetting all early religious feelings. 
D'Orsay seemed hurt at the observation. I then 
plainly said to him : — 

" ' The fact is, I imagined, or rather I supposed, 
you had followed Lady Blessington's example, if 
not in giving up your own religion, in seeming to 
conform to another more in vogue in England.' 

" D'Orsay rose up with considerable energy, 
and stood erect and firm with obvious exertion for 
a few seconds, looking like himself again, and 
pointing to the head of the bed, he said : 



304 D'Orsay 

" ' Do you see those two swords ? ' pointing to 
two small swords (which were hung over the 
crucifix crosswise) ; ' do you see that sword to the 
right ? With that sword I fought in defence of 
my religion.' " 

He then briefly narrated the story of the duel 
which we have already told. 

During his last illness, D'Orsay received from 
the Emperor the appointment of Director of Fine 
Arts. The honour came too late. 

At three o'clock in the morning of the fourth 
of August 1852, aged fifty-one, died Alfred, Count 
d'Orsay, the last and the greatest of the dandies. 

He was buried at Chambourcy ; the same 
monument covers his ashes and those of Lady 
Blessington. In the absence of the Duke de 
Grammont, who was confined to bed by illness, 
D'Orsay 's nephews, Count Alfred de Grammont 
and the Duke de Lespare, were the chief mourners ; 
the Duchesse de Grammont, his sister, was there, 
and among others Prince Napoleon, Count de 
Montaubon, M. Emile de Girardin, M. Charles 
Lafitte, M. Alexandre Dumas fils, Mr Hughes 
Ball, and several other Englishmen. 

Gronow says : "His death produced, both in 
London and Paris, a deep and universal regret." 

But one who did not love him, Count Horace 
de Viel Castel, whom we have before quoted, did 
not join in the chorus of regrets : — 

"Count d'Orsay is dead, and all the papers 
are mourning his loss. He leaves behind him 
they say, many ckefs-d'ceuvres, and on his death- 
bed requested Cldsinger to finish his bust of 
Prince Jer6me. 



Death 305 

" D'Orsay had no talent ; his statuettes are 
detestable and his busts very bad ; but a certain 
set cried him up for their own purposes, and called 
him a great man. One newspaper goes so far as 
to affirm that on hearing of his death the Presi- 
dent said : ' I have lost my best friend,' a state- 
ment which I know to be perfectly false. 

" D'Orsay 's friends were the President's 
enemies — the Jerome Bonapartes, Emile de 
Girardin, Lamartine, etc. He never pardoned 
the Prince for not appointing him Ambassador to 
the Count of St James', forgetting, or purposely 
ignoring, the fact that such a thing was impossible. 
No Government would have received him. His 
debts are fabulous. . . . The papers inform us 
that he has been buried at Chambourcy (on the 
property of his sister, the Duchesse de Grammont) 
in the same grave as his mother-in-law, Lady 
Blessington. The incident is sublime ; to make 
it complete, perhaps they will engrave on his 
tombstone : ' That his inconsolable and heart- 
broken widow, etc. etc' 

"He died ten years too late, for he became at 
last merely a ridiculous old doll. The President 
does not lose his best friend ; on the contrary, he 
is well rid of, a compromising schemer." 

Clesinger one day asked D'Orsay why he did 
not come to see him oftener. 

" Because people say that it is I who make 
your statues," responded D'Orsay, with a smile. 

11 Really ! " replied the sculptor, " I will come 
and see you ; no one would accuse me of being 
guilty of yours." 

Dickens wrote in Household Words : " Count 



306 D'Orsay 

d'Orsay, whose name is publicly synonymous with 
elegant and graceful accomplishments ; and who, 
by those who knew him well, is affectionately 
remembered and regretted, as a man whose great 
abilities might have raised him to any distinction, 
and whose gentle heart even a world of fashion 
left unspoiled." 

Landor writes : — 

" The death of poor, dear D'Orsay fell heavily 
tho' not unexpectedly upon me. Intelligence 
of his painful and hopeless malady reached me 
some weeks before the event. With many 
foibles and grave faults, he was generous and 
sincere. Neither spirits nor wit ever failed 
him, and he was ready at all times to lay down 
his life for a friend. I felt a consolation in 
the loss of Lady Blessington in the thought 
how unhappy she would have been had she 
survived him. The world will never more see 
united such graceful minds, so much genius and 
pleasantry, as I have met, year after year, under 
her roof. ..." 

Macready : — 

" To my deep grief perceived the notice of the 
death of dear Count d'Orsay. No one who knew 
him and had affections could help loving him. 
When he liked he was most fascinating and 
captivating. It was impossible to be insensible 
to his graceful, frank, and most affectionate 
manner. ... He was the most brilliant, graceful, 
endearing man I ever saw — humorous, witty, and 
clear-headed." 

D'Orsay 's good friend, Emile de Girardin, 
wrote in La Presse of August 5th, 1852 : — 



Death 307 

Le Comte d'Orsay est mort ce matin a trois 
heures. 

" La douleur et le vide de cette mort seront 
vivement ressentis par tous les amis qu'il comptait 
en si grand nombre en France et en Angleterre, 
dans tous les rangs de la societe\ et sous tous les 
drapeaux de la politique. 

"A Londres, les salons de Gore House furent 
toujours ouverts a tous les proscrits politiques, 
qu'ils s'appelassent Louis Bonaparte ou Louis 
Blanc, a tous les naufrag£s de la fortune et 
a toutes les illustrations de l'art et de la 
science. 

" A Paris, il n'avait qu'un vaste atelier, mais 
quiconque allait frapper au nom d'un malheur 
a secourir ou d'un progres a encourager, £tait 
toujours assure* du plus affable" accueil et du plus 
cordial concours. 

" Avant le 2 D^cembre, nul ne fit d'efforts 
plus reiterds pour que la politique suivit un autre 
cours et s'^levat aux plus hautes aspirations. 

11 Apres le 2 Decembre, nul ne s'employa plus 
activement pour amortir les coups de la proscrip- 
tion : Pierre Dupont * le sait et peut le certifier. 

" Le President de la Republique n'avait pas 
d'ami a la fois plus devoue et plus sincere que le 
Comte d'Orsay ; et c'est quand il venait de la 
rapprocher de lui par le titre et les fonctions de 
surintendant des beaux-arts qu'il le perd pour 
toujours. 

" C'est une perte irreparable pour l'art et pour 
les artistes, mais c'est une perte plus irreparable 
■encore pour la V£rite et pour le President de la 

* The well-known poet and lyricist. 



3o8 D'Orsay 

Republique, car les palais n'ont que deux portes 
ouvertes a la Verite : la porte de l'amitie et la 
porte de l'adversite, de l'amitie qui est a l'adver- 
site ce que l'eclair est a la foudre. 

" La justice indivisible, la justice £gale pour 
tous, la justice dont la mort tient les balances, 
compte les jours quand elle ne mesure pas les 
dons. Alfred d'Orsay avait 6t& comble de trop 
de dons — grand cceur, esprit, un gout pur, beaute 
antique, force athletique, adresse incomparable a 
tous les exercises du corps, aptitude incontest- 
able a tous les arts auxquels il s'etait adonn6 ; 
dessin, peinture, sculpture — Alfred d'Orsay avait 
6te. combl6 de trop de dons pour que ses jours ne 
fussent pas parcimonieusement compters. La 
mort a 6te inexorable, mais elle a ete juste. Elle 
ne l'a pas traite en homme vulgaire. Elle ne l'a 
pas pris, elle l'a choisi." 

There is one more general summary of his 
character which must be given. Grantley 
Berkeley tells a pleasant story of a dinner at 
the Old Ship Hotel at Greenwich : — 

" I remember a dinner at the Ship, where 
there were a good many ladies, and where D'Orsay 
was of the party, during which his attention was 
directed to a centre pane of glass in the bay- 
window over the Thames, where some one had 
written, in large letters, with a diamond, D'Orsay 's 
name in improper conjunction with a celebrated 
German danseuse then fulfilling an engagement 
at the Opera. With characteristic readiness and 
sang-froid, he took an orange from a dish near 
him, and, making some trifling remark on the 
excellence of the fruit, tossed it up once or twice. 



Death 309 

catching it in his hand again. Presently, as if 
by accident, he gave it a wider cant, and sent it 
through the window, knocking the offensive 
words out of sight into the Thames." 

Then he continues : — 

" D'Orsay was as clever and agreeable a com- 
panion as any in the world, and perhaps as in- 
ventive and extravagant in dress as Beau 
Brummel, though not so original nor so varied in 
the grades of costume through which his imagina- 
tion carried him. There were all sorts of hats 
and garments named after him by their makers, 
more or less like those he wore, and a good many 
men copied him to some extent in his attire. He 
and I adopted the tight wristbands, turned back 
upon the sleeve of the coat upon the wrist, in 
which fashion we were not followed by others, I 
am happy to say. . . . 

" Among the peculiarities and accomplishments 
for which D'Orsay desired to be famous was that 
of great muscular strength, as well as a knowledge 
of all weapons, and when he shook hands with 
his friends it was with the whole palm, with such 
an impressive clutch of the fingers as drove the 
blood from the limb he held, and sent every ring 
on the hand almost to the bone. The apparent 
frankness of manner and kind expression in his 
good-looking face, when he met you with the 
exclamation, 'Ah, ha, mon ami!' and grasped 
you by the hand, were charming, and we, who 
rather prided ourselves on being able to do strong 
things, used to be ready for this grasp, and 
exhibit our muscular powers in return. There is 
no man who can so well imitate D'Orsay's method 



3io D'Orsay 

of greeting in this particular as my excellent 
friend, Dr Quin. 

" Poor dear D'Orsay ! He was a very accom- 
plished, kind-hearted, and graceful fellow, and 
much in request in what may be called the 
fashionable world. I knew him well in his 
happier hours, I knew him when he was in 
difficulties, and I knew him in distress ; and when 
in France I heard from Frenchmen that those in 
his native country to whom he looked for high 
lucrative employment and patronage, and from 
whom D'Orsay thought he had some claim to ex- 
pect them, rather slighted his pretensions ; and 
when in his last, lingering, painful illness,* left 
him to die too much neglected and alone. 

■' That D'Orsay was unwisely extravagant as 
well as not over-scrupulous in morality, we know ; 
but that is a man's own affair, not that of his 
friends. His faults, whatever they were, were 
covered, or at least glossed over by real kindness 
of heart, great generosity, and prompt good- 
nature, grace in manner, accomplishments, and 
high courage ; therefore, place him side by side 
with many of the men with whom he lived in 
England, D'Orsay by comparison would have the 
advantage in many things." 

* An amazing version of D'Orsay's death has recently been 
made public ; namely, that in addition to the disease of the spine, 
the-Count suffered also from a carbuncle, which " was a euphemism 
for a bullet aimed at the Emperor as they were walking together 
in the gardens of the Elysee." 



XXX 

WHAT WAS HE? 

Witnesses have been heard for the defence 
and for the prosecution ; the defendant himself 
has been examined and cross-examined ; what is 
the verdict ? 

Lamb has told us that we must not take the 
immoral comedies of the Restoration seriously. 
His argument does not bear precisely upon the 
case in point, but it is of assistance. Lamb, 
speaking of plays, whereas we are writing of 
history, says : " We have been spoiled with — not 
sentimental comedy — but a tyrant far more per- 
nicious to our pleasures which has succeeded to it, 
the exclusive and all-devouring drama of common 
life." For " comedy" substitute "history"; for 
"drama" put "psychology" and we can fit our 
text to our sermon, a thing often more easy to 
achieve than to fit one's sermon to one's text. 
We had been surfeited with sentimental history, 
with the white-washing of sinners and the super- 
humanising of saints ; we therefore turned to 
what we are pleased to call real life, and taking 
everything seriously have made everything dull. 
Let us return to our Lamb for a moment : — 
" I confess for myself that (with no great de- 
linquencies to answer for) I am glad for a season 
to take an airing beyond the diocese of the strict 
conscience — not to live always in the precincts of 

3" 



3i2 D'Orsay 

the law-courts — but now and then, for a dream- 
while or so, to imagine a world with no meddling 
restrictions — to get into recesses, whither the 
hunter cannot follow me — 

' Secret shades 



Of woody Ida's inmost grave, 
While yet there was no fear of Jove.' 

I come back to my cage and my restraint the 
fresher and more healthy for it. : ' 

That is the point of view we must take if we 
are to judge D'Orsay justly ; we must lock up our 
conscience for the nonce, we must get away from 
the unimaginative atmosphere of the law-courts, 
we must snap the shackles of convention which 
always make it impossible for us to form a fair 
opinion of the unconventional. 

Judged by the standards of life and conduct 
which must control everyday men and women, 
D'Orsay was a monster of iniquity, and also, as 
Punch would put it, he was worse than wicked, 
he was vulgar. His friends cannot have weighed 
him by any such standards, or they would have 
condemned him and scorned him. They could 
not then have accepted him as one of themselves, 
as a man to be almost loved ; they would have 
turned cold shoulders to any ordinary mortal who 
treated the love of woman as a comedy and debts 
of honour as mere farce. 

But your real dandy is not an ordinary man 
and must not be judged by common standards. 
He stands outside and above the ordinary rules 
of life and conduct ; he has not any conscience, 
and questions of morality do not affect him. 
All that is for us to do in viewing such a one as 



What Was He? 313 

D'Orsay is to weigh his physical and mental gifts, 
and to examine the uses to which he put them, 
to look to the opportunities which were given to 
him and the advantage which he took of them. 

Of the multitude of witnesses whom we have 
summoned there is not one who denies that D'Orsay 
was a man of supreme physical beauty, and the 
portraits of him support their verdict. Good looks 
that were almost effeminate in their charm were 
supported by the physique of a perfect man, and in 
all manly sports and pursuits he was highly ac- 
complished. Of his mental qualities it is not so 
easy justly to weigh the worth ; he was an ac- 
complished amateur in art some say, others deny 
it, but on the whole the evidence seems to be in 
his favour ; he was endowed with a pleasing habit 
of talk, though scarcely with wit. He was good- 
humoured, a bon gargon and good-natured. He 
was an accomplished gourmet. In the art of 
dress he was supreme. He was more greatly 
skilled, perhaps, than any other man, in the art 
of gaining and giving pleasure. He was brave. 

Morality, as has been said, does not enter into 
the consideration of such a man ; he was above 
morality, or outside it. There have been and 
there are others like him. They are grown-up 
children, utterly irresponsible ; not immoral but 
unmoral ; they "please to live and live to please " 
themselves. They do not realise that their actions 
may prove costly to others and therefore do not 
count the cost. They are children of impulse not 
of calculation. They are emotional not logical. 
Pleasure is their pursuit and they shun all that is 
unpleasing and displeasing. They are so different 



314 D'Orsay 

from us ordinary folk that we cannot appraise them 
or even fully understand them. Fear of conse- 
quences that would appal us have no terrors for 
them ; they do not need to set them aside, they 
are not aware of them. Conventions which 
hamper us, for them do not exist. To fulfil the 
desire of to-day is their one aim and ambition and 
they take no heed of to-morrow. 

It is as a dandy that D'Orsay must be judged, 
and in that role he achieved triumph. It was as a 
dandy he lived and as a dandy that he is immortal. 
Such men as he, if indeed there are others with his 
genius, should — as we have said — be pensioned by 
the State, should be set above the carking cares of 
questions of want of pounds — shillings and pence 
do not trouble them ; they should be cherished 
and sustained as rarely-gifted and rare beings, to 
whom life presents not any serious problems, and to 
whom life is a space of time only too brief for all 
the pleasures which should be crowded into it. 
"Life's fitful fever" should be kept apart from 
such sunny souls, and our only regret should be 
that there are so few of them. 

There are mouldy-minded people who put 
out the finger of scorn at D'Orsay. Is it not the 
truth that they are jealous of him, and that at 
the bottom of their hearts there is a muttered 
prayer : " I would thank God if He had made me 
such a man " ? 



Index 



Abinger, Lord, 177 

Adam, fig-leaf breeches, ix 

Ainsworth, William Harrison, 
191 

Alcibiades, xi 

Allen, Lord, 124, 140, 220 

Alvanley, Lord, 125 

Anglesey, Lord, 189 

Anson, George, 151 

Auckland, Lord, 220 

Auldjo, John, 169, 170 

Avignon, 46 

Avillon, letter to Lady Blessing- 
ton, 282 

B 
Ball, Hughes, 304 
Ballantine, Sergeant, 204 

„ on Star and Carter, 

156 
Balmoral brose, 130 
Baring, Hon. Francis, 203 
Basanville, Comtesse de, 121 
Bates, Joshua, 203 
Beaconsfield, Lord, 131, 145, 
186, 190 
„ as a dandy, xi, 

xii, 130, 193, 194 
„ at Lady Blessing- 

ton's, 140 
„ Endymion ; Colonel 
Albert St Barbe, 
207 
„ Endymion, quoted, 

174 

„ Henrietta Temple, 

Count Alcibiades 
de Mirabel, 256 
seq. 

„ Letter to Lady 

Blessington, 280 

„ Meets D'Orsay, 

142 

„ on Louis Napo- 

leon, 201 

„ on party at Gore 

House, 172 



Beaconsfield, Lord, Vivian 
Grey, xii, 105, 
140, 142, 193 

Beauharnais, Eugene, 200 

Beckford, 141 

Belancour, de, 172 

Belvedere Palazzo, 53, 54, 58, 68 
„ Routine at, 59 

Belvedere, Prince and Princess, 

53 
Berkeley, Grantley, on D'Orsay, 

37, 133, 308 
„ on Gore 

House, 157 
Berry, Misses, 102 
Blakeney, Sir Edward, 28 
Blessington, Charles John 
(Viscount and 
Baron Mount- 
joy), Earl of, 
28, 65, 68, 75 
Attitude towards 

D'Orsay, 45 
Purchased the 

Bolivar, 52 
Reginald de 

Vavasour, 54 
Sketch of, 29 seq. 
Will, 69, 70, 245 
Blessington, Lord and Lady, 
tour abroad, 42 
seq. 
Blessington, Marguerite Power, 
(Mrs Farmer), 
Lady, 24 seq. 
Anxieties, 270, 272, 

277 
at Gore House, 

157 seq. 
Book of Beauty, 

271 
Characteristics, 

274, 275, 276 
conversation, 138, 

161, 178 
Conversations with 

Lord Byron, 51, 

177 «•, 179, 271 



3*5 



316 



Ind 



ex 



Blessington, Marguerite Power, 

(Mrs Farmer), 
,, Lady, Contributor 

to Daily News, 

271 
„ Death, 88, 287 

„ Epitaphs, 288 

„ Finances, 270 seq., 

280 
„ in Paris, 81 seq., 

284 
„ in Rome, 76 seq. 

„ in Seamore Place, 

1 01 seq. 
„ Journal, 48, 50 

„ Duchesse de 

Guiche, 71, 73 
„ on Queen Hor- 

tense, 197 
„ Keepsake, 271 

„ Leaves Gore 

Housefor Paris, 

280, 283 
„ Letter to Henry 

Bulwer, 210 
„ Letter to Forster, 

264, 280 
„ Letters to Landor, 

84, 90, 221 
„ Mausoleum, 287, 

290 
„ Meets Byron, 49, 

5° 

„ Personal appear- 

ance, 31, 137 

„ on D'Israeli, sen. 

and jun., 105 

„ on General 

d'Orsay, 16 

„ on Countess 

Guiccioli, 163 

„ on Luttrell's con- 

versation, 93 

„ on opera, 144 

„ on Pompeii, 57 

„ on Portrait of 

Byron, 165 

„ on Waltzing, 46 

„ Salon in London, 

32, 33, 137, 160 

„ Writings, 271 

Bolivar, The, 52, 60, 68 
Bonaparte, Jerome, 206, 293 
Bradenham, 174 



British in Rome, 77 
Brookfield, Charles, 124 
Brougham, Lord, 33, 158, 176, 
183,185,188,252, 

293 
„ Report of his death, 

183 
Brown, Major, 30 
Brown, Mrs (Lady Mountjoy), 

30 
Brummel, Beau, xii 
Buckingham, Duke of, xi 
Buller, Charles, 176, 180, 182 

260 

Bultera, Prince and Princess, 66 

Bulwer, Sir Henry, Baron Dal- 

ling and Bulwer, 108, 

210, 215 

, , Fran ce, Social, Literary 

and Political, 105 
„ Letters to Lady Bless- 
ington, 213, 284 
Burdett, Sir Francis, 82, 220 
Bush, John, 124 
Byng, "Poodle," 201, 202 
Byron, Lady, 163 
Byron, Lord, 106, 107, 145, 164, 
165, 177, 223 
„ at Genoa, 48, 49 
„ Charmed with D'Orsay, 

„ Don Juan, quoted, 38 
„ Letter to Lord Blessing- 
ton, 39 
„ Letter to Count d'Orsay, 

40 
„ on Lord Blessington, 30 
„ on Count d'Orsay, 38 
„ on meeting Lady Bless- 
ington, 51 
„ on Rogers, 93 
„ Yacht Bolivar, 52 



Cambridge, Duke of, 184 
Campbell, Lord, 251 
Campbell, T., 102 
Canning, George, 33 
Canterbury, Lady, 169, 170, 239 
Canterbury, Lord, 169, 170, 177, 

261 
Carhampton, Lord, 94 
Carlyle, Jane Welsh, 187 
„ on D'Orsay, 267 



Index 



3*7 



Carlyle, John, 187 
Carlyle, Thomas, 166 

„ on D'Orsay, 187, 188 
„ on Landor, 219 
Caroline, Queen, 56 
Castlereagh, Lord, 33, 140 
Catholic Emancipation Act, 88 
Cattermole, George, 264 
Cavaliers as dandies, xi 
Centolla, Princess, 66 
Chalon, portrait of Lady Bless- 

ington, 282 
Chambourcy, 287, 290, 304 
Chambre, Major, Recollections 

of West- End Life, 150 
Charles II., xi, xii 
Chesterfield, Earl of, 118, 125, 
151, 152, 158, 
189, 241, 261 
„ Dinner to, 127 

Chesterfield House, 266 
Chesterfield, Lady, 266 
Chorley, Henry Fothergill, 143, 

166, 176, 183, 187, 261 
Cldsinger and D'Orsay, 305 
Clonmel, 25, 26, 28 
Cole, Sir Henry, story of 

D'Orsay, 231 
Coleridge, S. T., 223 
Colman, George, 102 
Congreve, high priest of dandy- 
ism, xii 
Conversation a lost art, 135 
Cooper, Anne, on Lady Bless- 

ington, 276 
Cotton, Sir St Vincent, 151 
Cotton, SirWilloughby, 134, 220 
Courvoisier, F. B., murdered 

Lord William Russell, 262 
Craven, Keppel, on Sir W. 

Gell's last days, 78 
Crawford, Mme. (Mrs O'Sulli- 
van), 16, 17,83,84, 

93 
„ Fond of her grand- 

son, 18 
Crean, Christopher, 155 
Creighton, Commodore, 106 
Crockford's " Palace of Fortune, 
\\Zseq. 
„ Play-room, 151 

Cunningham, Peter, on white- 
bait, 148 
Curtis, Lady, 102 



D 

Darner, Colonel, 150 

Dancing, 46 

„ Taglioni's, 86, 87 

Dandies, definition of, xiii 
„ Elizabethan, xii 
„ Gathering, 172 
„ in history, xi 
„ Psychology, xii 
„ " a public benefactor," 

103 
„ Three, 193 

Dandyism, ix., seq. 

„ History, ix, x. 

„ Literature, varied, xi 

„ of D'Orsay and Dis- 

raeli, 140 
„ Universities and, x 

D'Angouleme, Due, 45 

D'Arlincourt, Victor Pre*vost, 
Viscount, 131 

Deacon, Captain, 106 

De Contades, on D'Orsay and 
sheriff's officer, 278 

Dickens, Alfred Tennyson, 266 

Dickens, Charles, 145, 261 

„ as a dandy, xii, 192, 

193 
„ at Gore House, 265 
„ Bleak House, Law- 
rence Boythorn, 
218 
„ Friendshipwith 

D'Orsay, 191 
„ Household Words on 

D'Orsay, 306 
„ in Paris, 293 
„ Invitation to Mac- 
ready, 264 
„ Letters to Lady Bless- 

ington, 192 
„ on D'Orsay, 133 
Dieppe, 302 
Dinners, English, 127 
Dino, Duchesse de, story of 

D'Orsay, 134 
Disraeli, Benjamin, see Beacons- 
field, Lord 
D'Israeli, Isaac, 105, 188 
Donzelli, 144 
D'Orsay, Count Albert, 16, 

82 
D'Orsay, Comtesse Albert, 82, 
99 



3i» 



Index 



D'Orsay, Countess Alfred, 70, 

74, 82, 102, 146, 236, 

245 

„ Leaves Seamore Place, 

103, 267^ 

D'Orsay, Eleanore, Baroness de 

Franguemont, Comtesse, 16 
D'Orsay, Ge"d£on Gaspard 
Alfred de Grimaud, 
Count, xii 
„ as artist, 225 seq. 
„ as a dandy, 194, 235, 

314 
„ as gourmet, 126 
„ as leader of fashion, 

116 seq 
„ as a wit, 123 seq. 
„ Birth, 15 

„ Bonapartism, 20, see 
Relations with Louis 
Napoleon 
„ Bust of Lady Blessing- 
ton, 234 
„ „ Emile de Gir- 

ardin, 233 
„ „ Lamartine, 225, 

292 
„ „ Duke of Well- 

ington, 230, 
231 
„ Characteristics, 21, 23, 
51, 60, 145, 162, 185, 
189, 195, 253, 254, 
255, 259, 265, 294, 
3°9, 3io 
„ Connection with Lady 
Blessington, 45 et 
passim 
„ Death, 304, 310 
„ Dinner in Paris, 293 
„ Director of Fine Arts, 

304 

„ Finances, 132, 162, 212, 
215, 226, 245 seq., 
270, 278 

„ Friends, 77, U5, 188, 
189 seq., 260, 261, 
263 

„ Gambling, 148, 151, 152 

„ Grief at Lady Blessing- 
ton's death, 289, 290 

„ Horsemanship, 20, 1 18, 

195 
„ Illness, 302 



D'Orsay, in London, (1821), 35 

seq. 
„ in Paris, 18, 279, 284 

seq. 
„ Invents paletot, 120 
„ Journal, 38, 39, 40, 41, 

235 
„ „ on Lord Hol- 

land, 137 
„ Leaves London for 

Paris, 279 
„ Letters, 235 seq. 
„ „ to Duncombe, 

251,25a 
„ „ Fonblanque, 

205 
„ „ Forster, 333 

237 seq., 291 
„ „ Hayward, 294, 

300, 301 
„ „ Landor, 85, 98, 

236, 237 
„ „ R. J. Lane, 228, 

290 
„ „ Madden, 229 

„ „ C. Mathews, 

240 
„ „ Dr Quin, 242, 

244, 289 
„ Marriage, 74 
„ Monument, 304 
„ Monument to Lady 
Blessington, 287, 290 
„ on Coup dEtat, 208, 

299, 301 
„ Painting of Duchesse 
de Grammont, 220 
M Personal appearance, 

20, 116 
„ Portrait drawings, 226 
„ Portrait of Prince 

Borghese, 236 
„ Portrait of Byron, 165 
„ Portrait of Duke of 
Wellington, 232, 282 
„ Provision for, 70, 71, 

75, 245 
„ Qualities, 313 
„ Railway scheme, 238, 

2 3? 
„ Relations with Louis 
Napoleon, 197, 202, 
204, 208, 210, 211, 
285 



Ind 



ex 



3^ 



D'Orsay, residence in London, 

101 seq. 
„ Separated from his 

wife, 103, 246 
„ Sledge, 96 
„ Statue of Napoleon I., 

228 
„ Statuette of O'Connell, 

233 

„ Statuettes of Duke of 
Wellington, 229, 230 

„ Stories of, 121 seq., 278 

,, Studio, 159 

„ Visits Disraelis, 174 
Douro, Lord, 158 
Drummond, Sir William, 67 
Duchensis, Mile. 19 
Dudley, Lord, 67 
Duelling, 101, 109 
Dufferin, Lord, 293 
Dumas, Alexandre, 293 
Dumas, Alexandre fils, 304 
Duncombe, Thomas Slingsby, 

151, 186, 250, 253 
Dundas of Carron, 293 
Dupont, Pierre, 307 
Durham, Earl, 158, 176, 177, 

179, 180, 260 
Duval, Claude, xi 



Ellis, Joseph, 155 
Elphinstone, Lord, 140 
English Spy, 249 
Esterhazy, Prince, 172 
Eugenie, Empress, 196 
Euphuism, xi 

Every Man in his Humour, 
263 



Fairlie, Mr and Mrs, 169, 170 
Farmer, Captain Maurice St 

Leger, 26, 27, 28, 31 
Feist, Moritz, 117 
Florence, 53, 69, 222 
Fonblanque, Albany, editor of 
Examiner, 123, 
139, 140, 161, 
205, 261, 291 
„ Letter to Lady 

Blessington, 185 
Fonblanque, Edward Barring- 
ton de, 126, 261 



Forester, Charles, 125 
Forli, Duchess di, 66 
Forster, John, 145, 166, 168, 
188, 204, 260, 261, 
264 
,, at Gore House, 265 
„ on Landor, 218 
„ Sub-editor of Ex- 
aminer, 176 
Funchal, Count, 106 



Gardiner, Lady Harriet Anne 
Frances, Comtesse d'Orsay, 
30. See also d'Orsay, Com- 
tesse Alfred 
Gardiner, Luke Wellington 
(Viscount Mount- 
joy), 28, 30 
„ Death, 69 

Gardiner, Lady Mary, 71 
Gastronomy, French, 294 
Gazes, Due de, 86 
Gell, Sir William, 56, 57, 66, 166 
„ Death, 78 

„ Letter to Lady Blessing- 
ton, 79 
Genoa, 38, 48, 69 
Georges, Mme., 19 
Girardin, Emile de, 293, 304 
„ on D'Orsay's death, 
307 
Goldsmith, Oliver, 33 
Gore House, 157, seq. 

„ Novelists at, 190, 

191 
„ Sale at, 282 

„ Sunsetofitsglories, 

270 
Grammont, Count Alfred de, 

304 
Grammont, Due de, 19, 35, 84, 

220 
Grammont, Due et Duchesse de, 

304 
Grammont, Due et Duchesse 

de Caderousse, 46 
Grattan, advice to his son, no 
Greville, Charles, 94, 180, 
261 
„ at Gore House, 175, 

176 
„ on Blessington and 
D'Orsay, 45 



320 



Ind 



ex 



Greville, Charles, on Lady 
Blessington, 177 
„ on D'Orsay, 45, 122 
„ on D'Orsay's art work, 

159 
„ on Lord Douro, 158 
„ on Sir William Gell, 56 
„ on Richelieu, 190 
Greville, Henry, " Diary," 
quoted, 94 
„ on Taglioni's danc- 

ing, 87 
Gronow, 117 

„ on Count d'Orsay, 36, 

123, 304 
„ on Due de Guiche, 35 
Grosvenor, Hon. R., 66 
Gudin, Theodore, 292 
Guiccioli, Countess, 106, 107, 

114, 144, 162, 163, 165 
Guiche, Due de, 19, 35, 71, 75> 

81, 93, 220, 224 n, 245. See 

also Grammont, Due de 
Guiche, Due and Duchesse de, 

jun., 286 
Guiche, Ida, Duchesse de, 19, 

35, 36, 71, 81 
Guildford, Lord, 87 
Guizot, M., 214 

H 
Hall, S. C, 261 

Hall, Mrs S. C, on Lady Bless- 
ington, 274, 275 
Hallam, Henry, Middle Ages, 

78 
Ham fortress, 201, 204, 207 
Hatherston, Lord, 189 
Hawes, Mr, 252 

Haydon, Benjamin Robert, 159, 
188 

„ on D'Orsay, 233 
Hayward, Abraham, 119 

„ in Paris, 293 

„ on English dinners, 

127 
Heath, publisher, death, 271 
Heathcote, Sir T., 34 
Herschel, Sir John, 57 
Hertford, Lord, 282, 283 
Hobhouse, Sir John Cam, 165 
Holland House salon, 33, 136 
Holland, Lady, 136, 137 
Holland, Lord, 137 



Honey, Mrs, 241 
Horsemanship, 118 
Hortense, Queen of Holland 
(Duchesse de St 
Leu), 197 seq. 
„ Diamonds, 199 

Houssaye, Arsene, on d'Orsay, 

297 
Hugo, Victor, 141, 291 
Hunt, Leigh, 107, 163 

I 

Irving, Washington, 33 

J 
Jeffrey, Lord, 268 
Jekyll, Joseph, 33, 34 

„ on quinine, 243 

„ on Seamore House, 102 
Jenkins, Captain Thomas, 28, 

3i 
Jerdan William, 261 ; Auto- 
biography, 271 

„ on J. Jekyll, 34 

Jerrold, Douglas, 264 
Josephine, Empress, 199 
Joy now a stranger, ix 
Julien le Jeune de Paris, Mes 

Chagrins, in seq. 

K 
Kemble, Charles, 87 
Kemble, Fanny, Francis the 

First, 87 
Kemble, John, 33, 87 
Kenney, James, 169, 171 
Kildare, 28 
Knebworth, 239 



La Presse, on D'Orsay as artist, 

225 
Lablache, facial expression of 

thunderstorm, 263 
Lafitte, Charles, 140, 304 
Lamartine, 145, 291, 293 
Lamb, Charles, 222 
„ on plays, 311 
Lamington, Lord, on D'Orsay,. 

154,293 
Landor, Walter Savage, 69, 78,, 
80, 84, 85, 125, 145, 
188, 204, 216 seq. 
„ Autobiography, 216 



Index 



321 



Landor, Walter Savage, epitaph 
on Lady Blessington 
288 
„ Letters to Lady Bless- 
ington, 88, 89, 208, 
220, 222 
„ on Lady Blessington, 

65 
„ on D'Orsay's death, 88, 

89, 306 
„ on Due de Guiche, 35 
„ Visits to Gore House, 
166, 167, 219, 220 
Landseer, Sir Edwin, 158, 261 
Lane, Richard, 210 
Lane, Richard James, on 

D'Orsay's sketches, 227 
Laval, Montmorenci, Due de, 

77 
Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 33, 34, 

87 
„ Portrait of Lady 

Blessington, 282 
„ Portrait of Dauphin, 

97 

Leech, John, 264 

Lennox, Lord William Pitt, 114, 
124 
„ on D'Orsay, 18, 19 

Leon, Count, 202 

Lespare, Duke de, 304 

Leveson Gore, Hon. F., on 
D'Orsay, 266 

Lewis, C, 251 

Lichfield, Lord, 151 

Lillers, Marquis de, 82 

Lind, Jenny, 188 

Liston, 261 

Liszt, 261 

London in 1830, 100 

Louis XIV., 43 

Louis XV., 43 

Louis Napoleon, King of Hol- 
land, 197 

Louis Philippe, 204, 208 

Lover, Samuel, 143 ; Handy 
Andy, 144 

Luttrell, 93, 94, 95 

Lyly, a literary dandy, xi 

Lvndhurst, Lord, 94, 142, 143, 
145, 173, 177, 185, 188, 253 

Lytton, Lord (Sir Ed. Bulwer), 
104, 108, 139, 142, 145, 
260, 291 



Lytton Lord (Sir Ed. Bulwer), 
„ on Sir W. Gell, 79 
„ on Gore House, 158, 161, 

173, 176, 186, 188 
„ Money, 189 
„ Pel ham, xii 
„ Richelieu, 190 

M 
Macaulay, Lord, 136 
Maclise. Daniel, 238, 291 
Macready, 169, 176, 188, 189, 
261, 264, 291 
„ as actor and man, 

224 
„ Diary on D'Orsay 

260 
„ Letter to Lady Bless- 
ington, 170 
„ on D'Orsay's death 

306 
„ on Richelieu, 190 
Madden, Richard Robert, 62, 
64, 112 
„ on Disraeli, 140, 142 
„ on Comtesse Albert 

d' Or say, 99 
„ on Comtesse d'Orsay, 

„ on D'Orsay's bons 

mots, 126 
„ on D'Orsay's extrava- 
gance, 253 
„ on D'Orsay's fascina- 
tion for children, 259 
„ on Gore House, 161, 

165, 265 
„ on Napoleon 1 1 1., 206 

210 
„ Visits D'Orsay, 302 

Malibran, 144 
Malmesbury, Lord, on Louis 

Napoleon, 200 
Marc Antony, xi 
Marriott, Captain, 176 
Marry at, Captain, 191, 261 
Mars, Mile., 19 

Mathews, Charles James, 55 
seq., 93 
„ on D'Orsay, 58 

„ on Palazzo Belvedere, 

59 
„ Quarrel with 
D'Orsay, 60 seq. 



322 



Index 



Mathews, sen., 33, 34, 55, 92, 

93 

Mathias, Thomas James, Pur- 
suits of Literature, 66 

Meredith, George, x 

Mignet, M., 95 

Milligan, James, 67 

Mills, John, 152 

Milnes, Monckton, 261 

Minton, Mr, 231, 232 

Montaubon, Count de, 304 

Montgomery, Alfred, 183, 185 

Montholon, Count, 202 

Moore, Tom, 33, 38, 43, 48, 94, 
136, 177 
,, at Seamore Place, 139 
„ on duelling, 109, no 
„ on Sir William Gell, 56 
„ Singing, no 

Morning Chronicle on D'Orsay's 
statuette of Duke of Welling- 
ton, 230 

Moskawa, Prince of, 140 

Mountford, Lord, 101 

Murray, Captain, 26 

N 
Naples, 53 seq., 69 
Napoleon I., on Albert, Count 

d'Orsay, 16 
Napoleon III., Louis Napoleon, 
186, 195 seq., 
205, 285 
„ at Gore House, 

176 n 
„ at Seamore 

Place, 114,115 
„ Descent upon 

France, 200 
„ Projected duel 

with Leon, 
115, 202 
„ Sketch of, 196 

Napoleon, Prince, 293, 304 
New Monthly Magazine, on 

D'Orsay, 234 
Ney, Marshal, 82 
Nicholson, T. H., 230 
Ninon de l'Enclos, 17 
Normandy, Lord, 261 
Nugent, Lord, 201, 202 

O 

O'Connell, Dan, 108, no, in 



Opera, 143, 144 
Osborne, Bernal, 233, 288 
Ossulton, Lord, 220 
Ossuna, Duke of, 172, 173 



Paget, Sir A., 184 

Pahlen, Count, 139 

Paletot invented, 120 

Paris in 1815, 18 

Paris, Lord Blessington's house 

in, 82 
Parquin, Colonel, 202, 203 
Pasta, 144 

Patmore, on D'Orsay, 118 
Payne, George, 151 
Pembroke, Lord, 130, 197, 219, 

220 
PerletinZtf Comidien d'Etampes, 

19 
Perron, Chef, 293 
Persigny, 201 
Phillips, Catalogue of Sale at 

Gore House, 282 
Phipps, General, 102 
Piazzi, astronomer, 67 
Pisa, 71 

Planche, James Robinson, 189, 
261, 262 
„ on Lablache, 263 
„ on Louis Napoleon, 
201 
Pompeii, 57 

Poniatowsky, Prince, 172 
Ponsonby, John, 139 
Powell, Mr, 124 
Power, Edward, 24 
Power, Ellen, 24, 25 
Power, Ellen and Margaret, 158, 

192, 283, 291, 302 
Power, Margaret, 219, 220 
„ Account of Lady 
Blessington's death, 
285 
„ Account of Sarcophagus, 

288 
„ Letter to Madden, 289 
Power, Marguerite, see Blessing- 
ton, Lady 
Power, Mary Anne, Comtesse 
de St Marsault, 24, 42, 43, 54, 
96 
Power, Michael, 24 
Power, Robert, 24, 75, 245 



Ind 



ex 



323 



Procter, "Barry Cornwall," 169, 
170 
„ Epitaph on Lady Bless- 
ington, 288 
Pugin, Augustus, 55 
Punch, " The Mrs Caudle of the 

House of Lords," 185 
Puritans, xi 
Purves, Mr and Mrs, 170 

Q 
Quarterly Review, English 

dinners, 127 
Quin, Dr, 112, 113, 1 14, 243, 261, 
"283, 310 

R 
Rachel, in Phedre, 298 
Raikes, Tom, 123 
Ratcliffe, Lt.-Colonel, 202, 203 
Redding, Cyrus, on Lady Bless- 

ington, 90 
Reeve, Henry, 183, 184, 185 
„ on Countess Guiccioli, 

163 
„ Gore House, 167 
Revolution, 1830, 96 
Reynolds, Frederick Mansell, 

169, 170 
Ritchie, Lady, on D'Orsay, 182 
Robespierre, 112 
Robinson, Crabb, 65, 143 
Rocco Romano, Due di, 67 
Rogers, S., 33, 93, 95, 102 

„ Attitude towards Byron, 

94 
Rome, 53, 69, 76 seq. 
Rosslyn, Lord, 88 
Rothschild, Antony, 274 
Rotival, Chef, 293 
Rubini, 144, 261 
Russell, Lord John, 95, 137 
Russell, Lord William, mur- 
dered, 262 



St Aulaire, Count, 211, 213, 

214 
St Germain-en- Laye, 43 
Saint Marceau, Countess, 165 
St Marsault, Comte et Comtesse 

de, 43 
Sala, George Augustus, on Louis 
Napoleon, 196 



Salon at Holland House, 136 
„ at Gore House, 160 
,, at Seamore Place, 136 
„ Its decline and fall in 
London, 135 

Schodel, Madame, 219, 220 

Scott, Sir Walter, 223 

Seamore Place, 101 seq. 

„ Evenings at, 138 

„ Guests at, 102 

seq. 
„ Robbery at, 272 

Shafto, Mr, 183 

Shakespeare, Love's Labour 
Lost, xi 

Shaw, George Bernard, xii 

Shee, W. A., 144 
„ on Gore House, 160 
„ on Countess Guiccioli, 162, 

165 
„ on Duchesse de Guiche, 36 
„ on Louis Napoleon, 196 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 107 

Sheridan, School for Scandal, xii 

Simon, Dr Leon, 286, 287 

Smith, Albert, on Napoleon III., 
196 

Smith, James, 102, 109, 112 

Smith, James and Horace, 
Rejected Addresses, 107 

Smith, Sydney, 123, 180 

Somerset, Lady Fitzroy, 134 

Southey, Robert, 223 

Soyer, Chef, 293 

Standish, 261 

Star and Garter, Richmond, 

147, 155 
Stuart, Hon. W., 293 
Stultz, " Tailor to M. le Comte 

d'Orsay," 117 
Sue, Eugene, 224, 238 
„ Account of, 296 
„ Mysteries of Paris, Wan- 
dering Jew, 295 
Sumner, Charles, 188, 195 
„ on Gore House, 186 
„ on Landor, 218 



Taglioni, Mile., 86, 87, 144 
Talbot, Mr, 140 
Talma, Mme., 19 
Tamburini, 144 
" Tamburini Row," 261 



3 2 4 



Index 



Tankerville, Lord, 220 
Tarentura, Archbishop of, 

67 
Tennyson, Alfred, Lord, 

266 
Teufelsdrockh, Professor, defini- 
tion of a dandy, xiii 
Thackeray, W. M. 188, 191, 283 
„ Letters to Mrs 

Brookfield, 182, 
281 
„ Vanity Fair, " Mr 

Moss's Mansion," 

253 
„ Visits D'Orsay in 

Paris, 292 
Thanet, Lord, 34 
Thiers, M., 95 
Thomson, Poulett, 95 
Ticknor, George, 180 
Trelawney, the Younger Son, 

169, 170 
Tullemore, Lady, 134 
Tyrone, 32 

U 
Ude, Chef, 295 

„ story of, 150 
Uwins, painter, 57 

V 
Valence, 44 
Viel Castel, Count Horace de, 

on D'Orsay, 298, 304 
Vigne, Casimir de la, Columbus, 

67 
Vigny, Count Alfred de, 176, 
181, 260 
„ Letter to Lady Blessing- 
ton, 180 
Vizetelly, Henry, on D'Orsay, 
250 



W 



Walewska, Countess, 202 
Walewski, Count, 93, 95 
Webster, Sir Godfrey, 136 
Wellington, Duke of, 158, 188 
„ Catholic Emancipa- 

tion Act, 88 
„ in Paris, 18, 19 

„ on Napoleon III., 

209 
„ on his portrait by 

D'Orsay, 232 
Westmacott, sculptor, 57 
White-bait, 147, 148 
Wild oats, 147 
Wilkie, Sir David, 33, 72 
Williams, Lady, 94 
Willis, Nathaniel Parker, 139 
„ Description of Lady 

Blessington, 137 
„ on Disraeli, 140 
„ on D'Orsay, 122 
„ Visits Lady Blessington, 
104 
Wilton, Lord, 102 
Wombwell, George, 242 
Worcester, Lord, 240, 241 
Wordsworth, W. 223 
Wiirtemberg, King of, 16 
Wyatt (Wayatville), Sir Jeffrey, 

149 
Wycherley, high priest of 
dandyism, xii 



Yates, Edmund, on D'Orsay and 
Louis Napoleon, 195 
„ on Planche, 262 
Yates, Frederick Henry, 240 n 



Zichy, Count, 172, 173 



COLSTONS LIMITED, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH 



£-- 



JUL 3- 1912 



BRENT ANO'8 

,1 ..II.— 1 Bullmi 



